Something of the Wolf
by AManDuhhhhh
Summary: Barely surviving a brush with the Void, Rose Tyler sets off with the Doctor again, just as it should be. Season Three rewrite with Rose Tyler, beginning with Army of Ghosts.
1. Army of Ghosts

**Author Note: I've seen quite a few (though not nearly enough in my opinion) season three rewrites with Rose. And I thought I would give one a go. I don't know how it's going to measure up. Whoson1st and Krazy Ky-Sta Hatter are both brilliant writers and if my version is half as good as theirs then I think I'm on the right track. I'd like to thank anyone willing to read what I've written; the first two chapters are going to be a little dry because none of the dialogue from Army of Ghosts and Doomsday is really going to change. But! If you'll just be patient with me, it'll get better. In the meantime, please keep your hands and feet inside the vehicle at all times and enjoy the ride!**

"_Planet Earth. This is where I was born. And this is where I died._ _For the first nineteen years of my life, nothing happened. Nothing at all. Not ever. And then I met a man called the Doctor – 'Run,' he said. __And we did. – A__ man who could change his face. And he took me away from home in his magical machine. He showed me the whole of time and space. I thought it would never end... That's what I thought. But then came the army of ghosts. Then came Torchwood and the War. And that's when it all ended. This is the story of how I died."_

**Eighteen Hours Ago**

In her peripheral vision she sees him. Of course she sees him. She can always see him. He's looking out at the landscape of a desolate orange planet with his face carefully blank; his voice is measured and unflinching. He doesn't turn to face her—he could very well be asking her something trivial, like whether she fancied Italian for dinner.

"How long are you gonna stay with me?"

"Forever."

He does turn his head then; her answer had been immediate and her voice, while not equally emotionless, had been equally unflinching. His umber eyes lock onto hers, his skillfully shielded thoughts would have been unreadable to anyone not fluent in his countenance.

Her eyes are glassy from the wind, her affection is unyielding and unconditional, written plainly in her expression if he should choose to take note of it—but even if he did he'd never say, and neither will she. He wants assurances that she'll stay even though his hand in hers and a post-disaster victory hug is the most he will ever be willing to offer her. (_'That, and the universe,'_ she thinks.) Because she will die and he will live on. Because when it comes to saving the world and losing her she can never be his choice. She wouldn't want to be.

So when his dark eyes catch her lighter ocher ones she holds them there, determinedly—a challenge, an issue, a declaration, any number of words which describe the same end: Rose Tyler will not look away first.

After several long moments of silent battle something in his expression shifts, the two are no longer are Rose and the Doctor, twenty-year old chav stuck between adolescence and adulthood, and centuries old Time Lord, the lonely wanderer whose shoulders put Atlas to shame.

She is no longer the infatuated child she had been when she'd dumped Mickey and run toward the promise of adventure, and she looks at him silently, imploringly, because to say so out loud is forbidden. Beneath the exterior a teenage girl still shaking off the last of her "baby fat" is the teenage girl who through the hardship of travel, acquired insight and self-worth, transformed herself—became a woman.

She keeps her silence though, as she feels she ought, desperate as she is that he should understand; she is promising him, here on this earth with its oranges and reds so similar to – and also so glaringly different from the expansive orange sky, sprawling red hills and silver trees of the home to which the Doctor can never return, the rest of _her_ forever.

He studies her for a moment before a small smile, close-lipped and as sad as it is happy, subtly transforms his face. Words uttered nearly a year in the past ring in both sets of ears. "You can spend the rest of your life with me," he once said. And if he wants her, she will.

He looks back to the landscape then and her gaze soon follows. In front of them an alien sun sets, strange winged sting rays shriek in the fading light before beginning to break away to find shelter from the rapidly dropping temperatures; the Doctor and Rose remain blanketed in a permeating, yet comfortable silence, until the last of the light leaves the horizon and the temperature has dropped too low for prolonged exposure to her human body.

"C'mon," he says, giving her arm a tug with their still entwined fingers and making an encompassing hand motion in the general direction of the waiting TARDIS in the distance. The right side of his mouth suddenly quirks up in a playful smirk and even as he breaks away from her, he whispers loudly, "Race you!"

She takes off after him, laughing in exhilaration all the way, stumbling over her feet twice on the way because she's so happy she just can't seem to stop. She catches up to him while he pauses to unlock the TARDIS door and shoves him aside at the last second. When he comes to stop behind her, dragging his feet and pouting at her triumphant smile, she laughes all the more at the face he pulls.

He pilots them into the vortex while simultaneous grumbling under his breath about cheating companions, but he can't help closing his eyes and relaxing his mouth into a content smile of his own when he remembers how beautiful she looked with her windblown hair and nose and cheeks red from the cold, her head thrown back like a wolf laughing at the moon.

##############################################################################

**Eight Hours Ago**

They materialized in the playground next to the Powell estate, and Rose immediately went for the TARDIS door, grabbing her "dirty" clothes and veritably skipping toward the block of apartments in which her mum resided. The Doctor shook his head in fond exasperation and took three large steps to catch up with her, latching their hands together he began to criticize her playfully for the thirty-second time for bringing her washing to her mum's flat.

Rose laughed.

Her clothes were already clean; if she hadn't done them herself in the TARDIS her mum would be tasked with the job of getting Slyther saliva off Rose's jumpers or mending the acid burns on the hem of her jeans from their trip to Vortis two weeks ago. She shakes her head, laughs, and says it makes Jackie feel needed, then she opens the door to her mum's flat and turns around to look him in the eye. "Plus, it forces you to land us back on Earth every once in a while."

##############################################################################

"Mum, it's us; we're back!" Rose shouts from her spot under the threshold.

"Oh, I don't know why you bother with that phone! You never use it!" Rose's mum tuts, grabbing her daughter up quickly in a tight hug, they exchange "I love you's," stopping only because Jackie takes notice of the Doctor trying to edge his way around the couplet unnoticed; she cuts off his escape route, planting a large wet kiss right on his lips and enveloping him a long, drawn out hug, paying no mind to his feigned act of indignation.

Moments following their arrival and the Doctor's subsequent assault by the elder Tyler woman, he begins to sense a change in the air; unable to totally discount it as paranoia but with little in the way of a solution to an unease he hasn't yet unearthed the source of, starts flipping through magazines with an air of nonchalance, answering "Bezoolium," when Rose asks him a direct question about the name of the gift they'd picked out for her mum on the bazaar asteroid before he'd taken her to see the flying stingrays.

He had been growing increasingly panicked as the magazines flipped calmly through yielded no clues as to the source behind the storm that been grating with steadily increasing insistence against his time senses.

Noticing the look of distress in Rose's eyes as she stood watching her mother shuffle to the kitchen to prepare them all a cuppa, the Doctor sidles up to her side; if Rose takes note of his false cheer, she makes no comment on it.

"She's gone mad."

"Tell me something new," the Doctor jokes, not catching onto the genuine concern in her tone.

"Grandad Prentice. That's her dad, but he died like, ten years ago." Rose explains, panic mounting, her eyes roaming the Doctor's face as if hoping to find answers. "Oh my God. She's lost it… Mum? …What you just said about grandad..."**  
><strong> 

"Any second now. "

"But, he passed away. His heart gave out. Do you remember that?"

"'Course I do!"

"Then how can he come back?" Rose questions gently.

****"Why don't you ask him yourself? Ten past. Here he comes."

Any half-hearted hopes the Doctor had had of taking Rose and running away from the storm clouds as fast as the TARDIS could carry them were put to a heart-wrenching stop; around him he felt a new event clicking into place as Rose was expertly folded into established events. He'd said to her a long time ago in a different voice, through a different face, that he could save the world but lose her. As he studies the eddies in time around him, resisting the urge to follow the time lines just a little ways into the future—just to make sure they continue to run parallel—the one thing keeping him in this place in time was not courage, or bravery, or honor, it was her: Rose Tyler. Time wrapped around him, cuffing him at the wrists, and then he too was intricately woven into the ensuing fray.

They'd raced outside to see the "ghosts" walking along the streets in between the unafraid masses; they were world-wide – on the news, in Jackie's favorite soap. Running back to the TARDIS, still battling that urge to pilot them away before lightning strikes (not only because it means Rose is going to be vulnerable, but also because the air was pulsating and rippling toward a fixed point, an unchangeable event which any Time Lord mind would instinctually rebel against—demanding a hasty retreat, tail-between-legs if necessary – anything to get out of Dodge) but he had to remain calm. Find a solution. Play some theme music, make a Ghostbuster's joke. Bolstering his resolve once again, the old girl sending surges of reassurance through their bond, the Doctor steeled himself for a fight. But fight what, he did not know.

##############################################################################

_'Oh, that is very… not good', _ he thinks, peering out though his 3D glasses while working in tandem with Rose to triangulate the ghost's point of origin.

Theory confirmed and origin triangulated the Doctor races back into the TARDIS to whisk them away toward danger, ceaselessly babbling even as his eyes and body twitch with nervous energy.

"I like that. Allons-y! I should say allons-y more often. Allons-y! Watch out, Rose Tyler! Allons-y! And then, it would be really brilliant if I met someone called Alonzo. Because then I could say, allons-y, Alonzo! Every time! You're staring at me…" he stops babbling and goes still when presented with the strange look on her face, his own face going slack with horror when, after a moment, she says to him gravely. "My mum's still on board."

The TARDIS landed without her usual jolt, the old girl had taken an ounce of pity on her driver and attempted to spare him one source of pain for the day—an almighty Tyler slap was all the saving she could manage.

Spotting the guns on the monitor almost immediately, the Doctor took a calculated step to his left, blocking the monitor from Rose's view. Then in half a dozen quick strides he'd reached the doors and turned back around, intent on offering a quick, explanatory good-bye before stepping out and activating the lock behind him before his troublesome companion had time to react. "Oh, well there goes the advantage of surprise. Still! Cuts to the chase. Stay in here, look after Jackie."

"I'm not looking after my mum!"

"Well, you brought her!"

"I was kidnapped!"

"Doctor, they've got guns." Rose interjects before he and her mum can start a bickering war; she rushes up to him and puts herself between him and the door, watches as his eyes gain back their lost focus.

Taking a half step toward her, so close he can feel the heat emanating from her just as she can feel his cool, heavy breath, he carefully places both hands on her waist, his long fingers curling around her delicately—accidently grazing her blazing skin with the cool tips of the pinky and ring finger on his right hand, where her sweater had ridden up slightly.

She's standing there in front of him—he's touching her, she's whole and here, but even with his superior Time Lord biology he cannot suppress the swelling of his hearts as they drum frantically against his chest. The sensation is physically painful, it comes with the knowledge that this really could be it. _'This could be the last time I touch her. It could be the last chance to tell her…everything.'_ It's a temporal tipping point. It could go either way with just a puff of air. And he's not ready to let her go.

But after a time just slightly too long to be deemed innocent, he does let her go; using his grip on her waist to move her gently to the side, he flashes her a toothy smile and remarks wittily, no indication of regret in his cheery voice. **"**And I haven't. Which makes me the better person, don't you think? They can shoot me dead, but the moral high-ground is mine."

Then he opens the door and steps out, closing it behind him and losing sight of her. '_At least in the TARDIS she's safe.'_ His thoughts are quickly diverted as confusion takes precedence when the armed people begin clapping at him (and clearly know who he is). His hackles rise visibly when the woman in charge levels him a veiled threat and requests he introduce his companion; reaching back into the TARDIS, tongue in his teeth to stop from lashing out at the woman, he makes a quick grab for Jackie instead.

Seeing no reason to let the opportunity go to waste the Doctor takes a couple of affectionate digs at the Tyler woman. "Hmm. She's notthe best I've ever had. Bit too blonde. Not too steady on her pins. A lot of that," he tells the room, uses his hand to mime gabbing. "And just last week, she stared into the heart of the Time Vortex and aged fifty-seven years. But she'll do."**  
><strong> 

"I'm 40!" Jackie screeches indignantly.

"Deluded. Bless. I'll have to trade her in. Do you need anyone? She's very good at tea. Well… I say very good, I mean not bad… Well... I say not bad... anyway! Lead on—but not too fast! Her ankle's going."

"I'll show you where my ankle's going," Jackie hisses at him. Despite this however, they lock arms as they're lead away.

##############################################################################

The Doctor learns lots of things about Torchwood in the tour that follows:

If it's alien, it's Torchwood's. This includes but is not limited to the following subcategories:

His own imprisonment.

The right to knock innocent (and not so innocent) aliens passing through out of the sky, steal and adapt their technology (and do Rassilon-knows-what with their bodies) to assist in the creation of weapons like the one used to destroy the Sycorax ship on Christmas – the pride in his jailers voice had disgusted him, and prompted Jackie to shoot him an incredulous look of her own.

He's Great Britain's Most Wanted. He doesn't know why, finds it unfair even, since Rose is the one that ticked off her Majesty—but he keeps that to himself for now.

And C, or 3 or that little III that people use when doing roman numerals… If Yvonne didn't tread carefully, she would likely be on the end of a Tyler slap. The Doctor knew this because he too frequently found himself on the receiving end of that glare…he hasn't yet decided whether he's going to intervene…

His passing thoughts last just as long as it takes him to see Rose peek her head out of the TARDIS as it's led away. All he can do is glare at her and hope she understands what he's unable to say, but even if Rose had been able to understand his silent entreaty to stay where she is safe, Rose Tyler always went blundering in.

##############################################################################

Now poised with a sense of purpose, his determination to come out ahead being solidified by the fact that Rose was sure to abandon the safety of the TARDIS at any moment, the Doctor barely suppressed the urge to clap his hands at the conclusion of the tour (not that the conversation hadn't been scintillating – he'd especially loved reminiscing about his run in with Vicky), eager as he was for the next round of Yvonne's game.

The second he's seen what's behind door number one he recants his statement—he wishes the tour would recommence, in fact, he'd seen some rather well-shaped box hedges in a planter a short ways back that he'd love to look at more closely...—because somehow, impossibly, he knows what the sphere taking up the bulk the large room is, feels his jaw hanging useless in astonishment. He doesn't know how it got here but he knows what it is and after a quick peak through his 3D glasses he knows where it came here from. His eyes are glued to it, he cannot look away, as much as he desperately wants to.

Ignoring the scientist entirely and only answering Yvonne with a quick "This is a void ship," for the sake of Jackie, whom he's grown – _unintentionally_ – close over the past two years and thus increasingly sensitive the feel of her mind (not nearly as sensitive as he was to Rose of course, but then he'd also taught Rose basic shielding techniques) and right now Jackie was terrified. He's glad to find Rose's mum isn't nearly as foolish as Torchwood obviously is.

"And what is that?" Yvonne asks.

Folding up his glasses, his face is the picture of concern. "Well, it's impossible for starters. I always thought it was just a theory, but... it's a vessel designed to exist outside time and space; travelling through the Void."

He takes a seat facing his audience, a prickling feeling running down his spine just with the knowledge that _that thing_ is behind him.

"And what's 'the Void'?" The scientist in the lab coat questions.

"The space between dimensions. There's all sorts of realities around us, different dimensions. Billions of parallel universes all stacked up against each other. The Void is the space in-between. _Containing absolutely nothing_. Imagine that. Nothing. No light. No dark; no up; no down. No life. No time. _Without end_. My people called it the Void, the Eternals call it the Howling. But some people call it Hell."

"But someone built the sphere. What for? Why go there?"

"To explore. To escape. You could sit inside that thing and eternity would pass you by. The Big Bang, end of the universe, start of the next… wouldn't even touch the sides. You'd exist outside the whole of creation."

"You see, we were right. There _is _something inside it." Yvonne states, satisfaction lacing her voice. His terror is mounting, but if she won't listen, he can do nothing to help.

He looks her directly in the eye, feeling the futility in trying to reason with the woman bone-deep, but both his world and theirs were on the line. "Oh, yes!"

"So how do we get in there." It's stated more than asked; the Doctor has to look away from the scientist, to fight the urge to retch; in his peripheral vision, Jackie has gone pale.

"We don't!" the Doctor stands erect. "We send that thing back into Hell. How did it get here in the first place?"

"Well, that's how it all started." Yvonne says. "The sphere came through into this world, and the ghosts followed in its wake."

"Show me." He demands, walking off without her.

"No, Doctor." Yvonne says amusedly, he turns and walks the other way with not an ounce of urgency lost.

##############################################################################

Taking a long look through his 3D specs, he finds he was nowhere near urgent enough. The humans had been actively manipulating the weaknesses in the walls of the universe for months; it's only through a miracle that the membrane keeping this world closed off from the void hasn't begun disintegrating altogether – it will though, too soon. 'Canary Wharf', Jackie called this building, _'Who builds a bloody skyscraper to reach a spatial disturbance?!' _The more he thinks about the activities that have taken place within this building the harder it is to control his ever-increasing rage.

"So – you find the breech, probe it, the sphere comes through. Six hundred feet above London, BAM, it leaves a hole in the fabric of reality. And that hole, you think, "oh, shall we _leave it alone_? Shall we _back off_? Shall we_ play it safe_?" Nah, you think, "_let's make it BIGGER!_"

He listens to Yvonne's reasoning, he really does…energy source, power, Britain truly independent…"next Ghost Shift's in two minutes," she tell him, but the look the Doctor sends her has been enough to stop armies, in the past. He's furious at her ignorance. He's disgusted, beyond disgusted, really, and his Lewis isn't here to play good cop right now.

"Cancel it." He growls, every bit the Oncoming Storm the stories told on Skaro portrayed him as. Kings and Emperors had submitted to this man, wars ended by his hand, soldier's turned tail and fled under his gaze—Yvonne Hartman scoffed.

"I don't think so."

"I'm warning you, cancel it."

"Oh, exactly as the legends would have it. The Doctor, lording it over us. Assuming alien authority over the rights of Man."

He has to make her understand the danger in order to protect Rose and the rest of the planet and it's this objective which is keeping him as calm as he is. She had to listen because he had to stop this _madness _so he could get Rose and they could run far away from Yvonne Hartman. _'Maybe to Barcelona…maybe we'll even take Jackie.'_ Deciding that once this was all over he'd do just that, he refocuses all of his attention on the crazy woman in front of him, intent on giving her an explanation that even a particularly slow kindergartener would likely understand.

His eyes go to the glass partition and a smile almost pulls at his face; breaking away from the group, he stands himself on the opposite side of the glass, pulling out his sonic and maintaining constant eye contact with Miss Hartman, he speaks to her in what Rose has come to call his 'instructor voice.'

"Let me show you. Sphere comes through." He activates the sonic for a single second – just long enough for the sound waves to cause a small fracture in the glass.

Never once dropping faltering in his gaze, the Doctor watches Yvonne watch him as the glass splinters further out, waiting for some recognition of the danger they'd put the whole world in every day. "But when it made the hole, it cracked the world around it. The entire surface of this dimension splintered. And that's how the ghosts get through. That's how they get everywhere. They're bleeding through the fault lines. Walking from their world, across the Void, and into yours. With the Human Race hoping and wishing and helping them along! But too many ghosts, and..." and he touches the glass, it had been the barest graze of his fingertip, but it had been enough. The glass shattered, clattering to the floor at their feet in shards and dust and still their eyes remained locked onto each other.

"Well, in that case we'll have to be more careful." She says cheerfully, before turning to address her employees, "Positions! Ghost Shift in one minute. "

"Ms. Hartman, I am asking you - please, don't do it."

"We have done this a thousand times." She dismisses him.

Feeling panic as the storm continues to circle around him, his right hand had been twitching intermittently since he'd stepped out the TARDIS without his companions hand in it, and even now she'd be wandering around on her own somewhere 'A_nd 'jeopardy friendly' is too kind a term, Rose is a bloody menace!'_ If there is trouble, she's found it so fast she's been at the front line of the queue for live minutes, waiting patiently for it to start.

"Then stop at a thousand!" He yells.

****"We are in control of the ghosts. The levers can open the breech, but equally they can _close_it."

"Okay." He says after a moment. Clearly she'll never listen to his words, he takes a shot at silence. Stepping over the glass scattered like a mosaic across the floor, feeling the crunch beneath his feet as it breaks further, he sits himself down comfortably on a chair in her office, making a show of settling in.

"Sorry?!" Yvonne says, flabbergasted. The Doctor cringes and vows never to even _think_ that word ever again.

"Never mind! As you were," he tells her.

"What, is that it?" She asks, like a child who told her father to stop doting on her then became petulant when he did.

"No! Fair enough. Said my bit. Don't mind me. Any chance of a cup of tea? "

"Ghost Shift in twenty seconds." A pretty black employee calls out from the floor.

"Mm! Can't WAITto see it!"

"You can't stop us, Doctor." Yvonne says in the same tone as before.

"No, absolutely not!" When he looks over to Jackie there is a real smile in his voice; even if his plan doesn't work, he's riled up the vile woman. "Pull up a chair, Rose! Come and watch the fireworks."

Coming to stand right behind him the moment he asks, fear still rolling off her in waves – but stronger than the fear was resolve and dedication. Jackie trusts him to save them; she places a comforting hand on his shoulder before turning to face off with Yvonne, nothing but steely contempt to be found in her eyes.

"Ghost Shift in ten seconds. Nine... eight..." Yvonne is looking less and less sure of herself as the seconds tick away. "Seven... six... five... four... three... two..."

"Stop the shift!" She breaks eye contact, and the Doctor slumps in his seat, so relieved she stopped the ghost shift he doesn't even get a rush of satisfaction for tipping the scales of power in someone else's game. "I said stop."

"Thank you." He sighs gratefully.

"I suppose it makes sense to get as much intelligence as possible. But the program will recommence, as soon as you've explained everything."

"I'm glad to be of help."

"And someone clear up this glass." She said to anyone listening before turning back to the Doctor. "They did warn me, Doctor. They said you like to make a mess."

He almost laughs out loud at that. _'Whoever 'they' are, they were right.'_

**##############################################################################**

Rose, meanwhile, had been making her own way. After taking the psychic paper from the Doctor's coat pocket she vacated the TARDIS – whose doors had unlocked with a warning hum – and stolen a while lab coat. From there she had made her way back and forth the R and D department before following a hallway that led her to the Sphere room.

Cursing herself for wasting a very clever lie about "checking the lines of communication" only to have the scientist, Rajesh see right through her psychic paper (why bother being clever when it doesn't work anyway) she suddenly found herself alerted to the presence of Mickey Smith, who was for some reason _not_ in the parallel universe, and was inexplicably going by the name Samuel; therefore when Rajesh offered her seat, she sat herself down thankfully.

While she attempted to settle herself in comfortably, Rajesh made a video to Ms. Hartman, the woman Rose immediately recognized as having been there to greet the Doctor upon their arrival.

"She one of yours?" She hears Yvonne ask from out of frame, after she'd panned the screen around to face the Doctor. Rose leans in and smiles disarmingly.

The Doctor shakes his head and acts unbothered but Rose is sure his jaw just clenched. "Never seen her before in my life."

"Good! Then we can have her shot." Yvonne smirks. Rose's eyes widen, Jackie gasps, and the Doctor sits up pin straight, stopping himself just short of threats of violence, because if Rose Tyler died here today the Doctor would see this building burnt to the ground. Opting instead for a sort of forced joviality, he waved a hand at the screen, saying "Oh all right then, it was worth a try. That's – that'sRose Tyler."

"Sorry," Rose says with a carefree smile and a finger wave. "Hello!"

The Doctor waves back but the tension coiling under the surface is obvious. She'd seen it the second the ghosts first appeared. She had seen him hide it behind exuberance and cheek and had allowed him to do so because it helped him cope with their lifestyle. What she saw in him now worried her though, because now his act was crumbling around him, and he was so tightly wound he didn't even realize he had long since stopped fooling anyone. _'This is really bad, then.'_

"Well, if that's Rose Tyler, who's _she_?"

"I'm her mother."

"Oh, you travel with her mother?" Yvonne mocked, even as she voice raised an octave in surprise.

"He kidnapped me."

"Please, when Torchwood comes to write my complete history, don't tell people I travelled through time and space with her mother..."

"Charming." Jackie snorted.

"I've got a reputation to uphold!" He'd meant it to be a joke, but regretted his words immediately; the bemusement coloring his companions face on the monitor never faltered, he'd never even have known his joke had hit her so hard, except that for a moment so brief she probably hadn't known it'd happened at all, a crack had developed in the wall protecting her mind, and he'd been by the shockwave of her all-consuming hurt – the first time since they'd escaped Sanctuary Base One that she'd made a single mistake.

On more than one occasion he found he'd missed the pleasant sensation he'd come to associate with her buzzing thoughts, but his first brush with her mind in over ninety-three days and sixteen hours should not have been like this, especially since it might be the last… Had she always been so talented at hiding her feelings from him?

For the second time today he was brought up short by his own regret. He had so much of it, but he had it with Rose in triplicate. He should have done so many things differently. He should have been a braver man, and he never should have let her believe that he'd _danced_ with Reinette. If Rose felt like Sarah Jane's replacement, or Reinette's inferior, it would be entirely his fault, he knew.

In some ways Rose had been empowered by knowing him. She had been able to help change the lives of entire civilizations—_she had held time_, it'd be malleable in her tiny human hands! In other ways, coming with him may have been a terrible decision; at home with her beans on toast, Rose's life may have been mundane, but her lack of freedom had come with independence. With him, he was beginning to see that he had made her pay a price for her freedom—she felt it was dependent upon him. She didn't need him to survive, but she did feel like she needed him to make the civilization-changing decisions that had led to her empowerment in the first place, therefore all of the times she'd saved the say, she attributed the credit to him.

She had been more than just hurt when he'd run off without her in the 51st century and he'd never realized it. Before then she may have felt she'd needed his help to save the day, but she'd likewise never questioned that he'd needed her in some capacity. Then suddenly, she'd had Sarah Jane thrust at her and she'd gone from being an important part of his life to being one in a long line of beautiful and intelligent women – simultaneously she'd had to deal with been ignored and blamed for the cattiness they'd both been guilty of in their initial dislike of each other. He had seen this as the first of the two opportunities he'd taken to gain some distance from her and he'd jumped at it.

But brave Rose Tyler wouldn't just submit quietly. No, he'd already showed her what he thought of her, but she needed to hear him say it before she'd believe, and that was something he could not do. He could not look Rose Marion Tyler in the eye, and lie to her. So he promised he wouldn't leave her behind and he'd meant it… and then he'd seen a second opportunity to push her away, and he'd taken that too.

And this time Rose did quietly submit, managed only a meek "Why her," at the end of the adventure, and hadn't even had the fight left to correct his willful misinterpretation of her question. He'd said early on, piercing blue eyes narrowed at Adam, 'he only took the best, and Rose is the best.' Then in the span of one Earth day he'd shown Rose that she wasn't the best anymore. He had left Rose behind, and he'd invited the uncrowned Queen to France along to take her place, never realizing how brightly Rose had shined until he'd watched her light burn out at his own hand. He should have kept her with him then, and he should've kept her by his side today. Because now instead of safe in the TARDIS, or with him where she should be, Rose is somewhere he can't reach her; like a bloodhound for danger she'd found herself prisoner in the same room with the Void ship and the thing trapped inside it.

He makes a promise to himself that if he gets them out of this he's going to tell her everything. He's going to stop being a coward, and stop running away, and he's going to use the rest of her life to never let her think she's anything less than fantastic to him – if she'll have him.

Then he vows to himself that he's going to get them out of this… Jackie too, he supposes.

His revelations about his Rose take the backburner to his mounting panic when the ghost shift begins again. It quickly becomes apparent that this time the operation has been sabotaged. He can't stop it.

Things become even bleaker when the Doctor spots the ear-pieces on the rogue Torchwood employees, the second to last piece of the puzzle. He knows now what is crossing the void into this world and he knows what world they've come from – but he doesn't know is how they built the Void ship and what they put inside.

With sincere apology to the already dead he deactivates the ear pieces, stopping the manipulation of their bodies and letting them sleep.

The ghost shift has begun, Torchwood lighting the runway for an easy landing. They haven't so much tapped the splintered glass holding this world together, as they have thrown a brick through it… and then another brick… just to be thorough.

Using his sonic screwdriver to scan for what he now knows are Cybermen, he sends a quick prayer that Rose stays safe. Odd, he thinks, that he should be praying when the only deity he believes in is downstairs in the eye of the storm. '_The Bad Wolf made Jack a fixed point in time, she better have been able to keep Rose safe for the twenty minutes it'll take for me to get to her!'_

The Doctor finds the few Cybermen that came first across the Void, but there are still too many of them to fight; they find themselves surrounded and led back to the lever room where the ghost shift is increased to 100%, allowing the Cybermen to come through, millions of them, inciting worldwide panic.

"They're invading the whole planet!" Yvonne exhaled, staggered by the knowledge that she helped her own planet fall.

"It's not an invasion," The Doctor told her, before being distracted by Yvonne's laptop flashing the words 'SPHERE ACTIVATED.' "It's too late for that. It's a victory."

##############################################################################

Meanwhile in the eye of the storm, Rose and Mickey are standing side by side, facing the Void ship, which is now active. The former waits in unease, the latter in anticipation, watching as the sphere shakes and vibrates itself open.

Intent on shooting down whatever Cyberleader comes out of the ship before it can even get its bearings, Mickey retrieves his gun and allocates Rose to a spot just slightly behind him. "This is gonna blast them to Hell." He says, indicating his gun while Rose looks on, her eyes warring between trust and pride.

"Samuel, what areyoudoing?!"

"The name's Mickey. Mickey Smith." He cocks his gun and points it at the void ship, now almost fully open. "Defending the Earth."

##############################################################################

Something was still wrong with the Doctor's puzzle. It was like all the pieces fit but the picture was still skewed. "What I don't understand is Cybermen don't have the technology to build the Void Ship, that's WAY beyond you. How did you create that sphere?"

"The sphere is not ours."

"... What?" '_Oh. Oh. Oh, that is very, very, VERY, NOT GOOD!'_

"The sphere broke down the barriers between worlds. We only followed. Its origin is unknown."

"Then what's inside it...?" He asked but the Cyberman had no an answer for him. His mind catalogued the thousands of species that could be inside, each more horrific than the last; all the while his mind blaring that Rose was down there and '_why can't she just stay out of trouble for ten bloody minutes!'_

"Rose is down there." Jackie whispers to him, near tears – as if he hadn't already thought about every possible scenario before her tiny human brain even registered the possibility of her daughter being in renewed danger. But for now there was nothing he could do.

##############################################################################

"That's not Cybermen..." Mickey says in confusion as an alien he's never seen before begins to ascend from the open sphere. Beside him Rose goes rigid.

Rose does recognize the aliens. Unable to contain herself, a fearful "Oh, my God," escapes her lips. Several more cohesive things soon occur to her. First, she distinctly remembers herself and the TARDIS going to extremes to get rid of these guys. Second, those are Daleks. Third, there are also Cybermen. Fourth, the Doctor isn't here to save her right now, which means that it's up to her to save herself, Mickey, and Rajesh. Fifth,_ 'I should've just stayed in bed this morning.'_

"LOCATION: EARTH. LIFE FORMS DETECTED. EXTERMINATE!"

"EXTERMINATE! EXTERMINATE! _EXTERMINATE!_"


	2. Doomsday

**Author Note: I would like to thank everyone who has viewed, followed, and favorited my story already. I'm so glad you've seemed to enjoy it thus far! A special thank-you for **_**Deepika**_** for her constructive criticism (I've fixed it, as well as a few other minor errors) and for her raving review (you're making me blush!) ;) I hope you all continue to enjoy. Thanks so much!**

_"EXTERMINATE!"_

_##############################################################################_

Watching the Daleks advance toward her and knowing she was probably about to die, Rose squeezes her eyes closed and shouts out. "Daleks!" she cries, feeling her courage swell when they pause. In the newfound silence she continues speaking, with the hopes that if she can just keep talking until the Doctor comes they might still survive. "You're called 'Daleks'."

The Daleks don't respond but neither do they exterminate her. She tilts her head the side, like a dog, considering it, studying it. "I know your name," she finally tells it, shucking off her lab coat, moving around like the life of the party – keeping the attention of the Daleks on herself and not on the other two hostages. "Think about it… how can I know that? A Human... who knows about the Daleks. And the Time War. If you wanna know how, then keep us alive. That's all I'm asking. Me and my friends," she says, including them now; if they all seem important, they'll all survive a little bit longer.

Mickey, proving himself again to _not _be the tin-dog, had latched onto the name 'Dalek' immediately, he now latched onto Rose's plan to keep them alive. "Yeah, Daleks. Time War. Me too."

"Yeah. And me," Rajesh states from his place behind them.

After a quick glance at its prisoners, the Dalek focuses its eyestalk back on Rose, just as she'd hoped it would. "You will be necessary."

Then he swivels around to Dalek Jast. "Report - what is the status of the Genesis Ark?"

"Status - hibernation."

"Commence awakening," Dalek Sek intones.

"The Genesis Ark must be protected above all else," Dalek Thay exclaims as the Daleks gather around the Genesis Ark, which has also emerged from the void ship, and attach their suctions to its sides.

"The Daleks," Mickey whispers, trying to keep the fear out of his voice. "You said they were all dead."

"Never mind that! What the hell's a Genesis Ark?"

##############################################################################

"What's down there?" Jackie cries to the Doctor. "She was in that room with the sphere. What's happened to Rose?"

The Doctor is leaning against a wall, his body language relaxed but Jackie had been the only one for some time who had been able to look him in it eye. His true age was showing though, a side-effect of the frustration that comes from helplessness. He sympathizes with Jackie, she's only voicing his own panic after all, but she isn't helping because no matter how many times she asks him, his answer will remain the same. He's unreasonably angry with her for it.

"I don't know."

When she begins to cry in he kicks off the wall and pulls her into a hug, rubbing her back in silent apology for snapping at her.

"I'll find her," he soothes her as best he can but it's not reassurance enough, he knows. "I brought you here; I'll get you both out. You and your daughter. Jackie, look at me. Look at me… I promise you," he tells her once he's got her full attention. "I give you my word."

A few meters away a Cyberman approaches Yvonne at her desk.

"You will talk to your central world authority and order global surrender."

"Oh, do some research. We haven't_ got_ a central world authority," she snaps back.

"You have now. I will speak on all global wavelengths," the Cyberman tells her while the Doctor puts his 3D glasses back on.

"This broadcast is for human kind," the Cyberman begins, addressing the entire planet. "Cybermen now occupy every land mass on this planet. But you need not fear. Cybermen will remove fear. Cybermen will remove sex and class and color and creed. You will become identical. You will become like us."

All the announcement had done was cause mass hysteria. Chaos broke out, from high above the terrified people on the ground, the Doctor, Jackie, and Yvonne watch in horror alongside the Cybermen, as small fires raged and the sounds of collisions and small explosions could be heard intermittently in the distance.

"I ordered surrender." The Cyberman says, looking to the group of humans nearest him for answers, the Doctor bursts out angrily.

"They're not taking instructions! Don't you _understand_? You're on every street! You're in their homes. You've got their children! Of course they're gonna fight!"

##############################################################################

"Which of you is least important?" Dalek Sek asks the human trio.

Rose blanches. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Which of you is least important?"

"No, we don't work like that. None of us."

"Designate the least important!"

"This is my responsibility," Rajesh says, stepping forward even as Rose acts to hold him back. "I, ah, I represent the Torchwood Institute. Anything you need, you come through me. Leave these two alone."

The Dalek orders Rajesh to kneel, they need information on current earth history. Rajesh stammers nervously that he'll tell them all he can so long as it doesn't compromise home world security, but his talking proves unnecessary and his bravery fatal, when Dalek Sek reaches out his suction arm and puts it over his head.

"Speech is not necessary. We will extract brainwaves."

"Don't... I- I'll tell you everything you need. No. No!" His crying peters off until he's not crying anymore, his skull crushed in and body abandoned, dead on the floor.

"You didn't need to kill him!" Rose shouts, her body shaking in such vivid anger it temporarily overrides her sense of self-preservation.

"Neither did we need him alive," said Dalek Caan.

##############################################################################

In the lever room, human and Cybermen alike wait the an update from the Cybermen who went to check on the activity in the sphere room. Dalek Thay had likewise been sent out as a representative to intercept the approaching Cybermen.

On Yvonne's laptop the Doctor watches and waits, chewing on the inside of his lip hard enough to make it bleed, to see what creature Rose has been trapped alone with for all this time. All the air leaves his body in rapid succession when he sees it there on the screen. His respitory bypass left absolutely useless, he's sure he must not be getting enough oxygen to his brain.

"Identify yourselves."

"You will identify first."

The Doctor's eyes remain fused to the screen, eyes rimmed red but unable to cry. Unable to do anything but stare at the monster blankly. He needed to see Rose! He needed to talk to her. To look at her. To hold her.

"... illogical, you will modify."

"Daleks do not take orders."

"You have identified as Daleks." The Cyberman said, sounding suspiciously smug to the Doctor's ears.

"Outline resembles the _inferior _species known as 'Cybermen'."

Jackie shakes the Doctor slightly. "Rose said about the Daleks. She was terrified of them. What have they done to her, Doctor? Is she dead?"

His head snapped up at the suggestion, the words grating oddly in his ears. His Rose was full of life, death seemed to be word that should never touch her.

"Phone." He said briskly, holding out his open palm.

"What did you –?"

"Phone!"

Jackie inconspicuously hands the phone over to the Doctor, who doesn't bother to conceal it from the surrounding Cybermen. Beginning a fast-paced, slightly aggressive pacing back and forth as he dials the number to Rose's superphone, fear coats his stomach with bile every second she doesn't answer, '_and if she's… he doesn't know what he'll do if she doesn't pick up her –' _

But she does answer her phone. Holding it at her side so it'll go unnoticed she flips it open and presses send. Still unable to talk, they keep up the connection while The Doctor grabs at his hair, wondering why she is alive and wearing out his rubber soles as he tries to figure out how to keep Rose that way. He has no idea what 'the Genesis Ark' is; though the slightly reverential tone is bothersome.

"Our species are similar," the Cyberman asserts. "Though your design is inelegant."

"Daleks have no concept of elegance."

"This is obvious," The Doctor shakes his head.'_Cheeky Cybermen, just what this day needed.'_ "But consider – our technologies are compatible. Cybermen plus Daleks – together, we could upgrade the Universe."

"You propose an alliance?"

"This is correct."

"Request denied," Dalek Thay said, prompting the Cyberman into taking immediate aim and shooting their weapons at the Dalek, only for the rays to bounce right off the Dalek's armor.

"Exterminate!" Dalek Thay yelled, in two shots both Cybermen had gone crashing to the floor, deleted.

"Open visual link," the Cyberman in the lever room commanded. "Daleks, be warned: you have declared war upon the Cybermen."

"This is not war. This is pest control."

"We have five million Cybermen. How many are you?"

"Four."

"You would destroy the Cybermen with four Daleks?!"

"We would destroy the Cybermen with ONE Dalek. You are superior in only one respect."

"What is that?"

"You are better at dying. Raise communications barrier!" Sek shouts, the Doctor's connection to Rose ends as the screen goes to static, leaving the Doctor trapped in the lever room with a scared Jackie, Cybermen, a Dalek infestation, no Rose, and no idea how to get himself out of this mess.

##############################################################################

"Wait! Rewind image by nine rells," Jast shouts, seeing the man who registers as 'enemy' standing in the background of the shot.

"Identify him." Cast aside to the corner of the room, Rose's heart had begun pounding madly in her chest at seeing him still alive and uninjured. Sek had observed her recognition and accosted her with the demand.

"All right then... if you really wanna know. That's the Doctor," The affect his name along has on the psyche of the Dalek's is immediate – as one, they jerk back suddenly, giving rise to a predatory smile gracing Rose's face "Five million Cybermen? Easy. One Doctor? _Now_ you're scared," she taunts.

** A**fter a few moments of silence, disturbed only by the loud mechanical yelling of the Daleks, Mickey finally turns to Rose and asks her what had concerned him since the sphere had opened and Cybermen hadn't stepped out. "Why are we being kept alive?"

She takes a moment. She'd wondered the same thing, though she had some idea about what the real reason might be, she leaned in closer to him and whispered, "They might need me," but she hoped she was wrong.

"What? What is it?" he asks her but she gives no more answers, choosing to continue her study of the Daleks in silence, dread shone from her eyes.

##############################################################################

Upstairs, the rest of the humans had just been rounded up, and were being forcibly taken to be upgraded, in preparation of the Cybermen's battle again the Daleks. As Yvonne and Jackie are led away the Doctor vows he'll think of a way to save them… he just needs to think of it first.

He sits down on a windowsill in the lever room, overlooking the dystopia the Cybermen had created below, he let his thoughts stray to happier times – this morning, when he and Rose had been swinging their laced hands between them as they made the quick jaunt from the TARDIS to Jackie's flat. He doesn't notice immediately when he is approached by one of the metal men.

"You are proof," it tells him.

"Of what?"

"That emotions destroy you."

"Yeah, I am," he says looking away from it and fighting the color threatening to burn his cheeks. He thinks of Rose and the time vortex. Of giving up his life for hers. Of not giving the Wire a chance (let alone a second chance) because in his fury over what had been done to her mercy hadn't ever even occurred to him. Of the paralyzing fear he felt looking at the Daleks on that computer screen and thinking she might actually be dead. He'd believed her to be dead three times now: once in a vault, once on a satellite, and again just a few moments ago. He might not survive a fourth with this regeneration intact.

Something shifts in the air then; his senses tell him another small tear has been made in the skin of the universe, but his time sense expands, allowing for the entrance of quite a few new time lines, some of which appear to be quite long. "Mind you, I quite like hope. Hope's a good emotion. And here it comes."

It came in the form of a cluster of people in black cat suits, helmets concealing their identities and holding… rather large guns. They seemed to appear out of thin air but the Doctor knew better. At their leader's order they shot and destroyed all the Cybermen in the room, barely giving the Doctor a chance to roll out of the way find cover behind Yvonne's desk.

"Doctor," Jake says with a pleased smile as he removes his helmet, "Good to see you again."

"Jake?!" The Doctor exclaims. A Cheshire grin envelopes the Doctor's face at the sight of Jake, but it's a tumultuous sort of joy. The walls of the universe are so thin, they won't stand up to the prodding being done to them and Jake really should not be here. One look at the lot of them through his 3D glasses tells him that.

"The Cybermen came through from one world to another - and so did we."

"You can't just—just—just _hop _from one world to another. You CAN'T."

"We just did. With these," he says, chucking a large yellow button on a chain to the Doctor for his inspection.

"But that's impossible. You can't have this sort of technology."

"We've got our own version of Torchwood. They developed it. Do you wanna come and see?"

"NO!" The Doctor shouts as they disappear.

**##############################################################################**

The first thing The Doctor notices about this world's Torchwood the darkness. It smells musty and disused. Jake explains that on this world the people found out what Torchwood was doing, and they stopped it—took control.

All The Doctor is concerned with his getting back to his universe's Torchwood and getting to Rose and her mum, and he tells Jake so.

"That'd be Jackie," came the voice of Pete Tyler from the shadows; he walks into the room, flanked by two soldiers. "My wife in a parallel universe. And as for you, Doctor, at least this time I know who you are."

"Right, yes, fine, hooray. But I've gotta get back. Right now."

"No, you're not in charge here. This is our world, not yours. And you're gonna listen for once."

The Doctor falls silent, but glares at Pete Tyler with the open malice only someone keeping him from Rose can conjure up. Pete, to the Doctor's consternation, stares calmly back.

He explained to the Doctor what had been happening on the parallel earth. The debate to try to help the Cybermen or to dispose of them went on, until they vanished three years ago (the mass of five million Cybermen crossing the void at once had made their travel slow).

He learns that Mickey went first. "Any chance to go and find Miss Rose Tyler."

"She's the child of a dead man," Pete said coldly when he tried to explain that biologically Rose Tyler was his. If he had the time, the Doctor would've be livid with the man for again discarding his Rose. But he doesn't have time to be livid. Pete's tale is winding to a close.

The temperatures on his Earth are rising, the ice caps are melting. It's not just global warming, both he and the Doctor know; it's the breach – it's the strain put on this world from the travel through the void. This world is starting to boil and the Doctor knows the other will soon follow.

"But you can stop it – the famous Doctor? You can seal the breach?" Pete coaxes.

"Leaving five million Cybermen stranded on my Earth." '_With my Rose. My __family__.'_

"That's your problem. I'm protecting this world and this world only."

"Hm, Pete Tyler. I knew you when you were dead. Now here you are, fighting the fight… alone…" The Doctor leans in conspiratorially. "There is a chance… back on my world… Jackie Tyler might still be alive."

"My wife died." Pete deadpans, but he's eyes glaze over at the thought.

"Her husband died. Good match."

But Jackie a subject that Pete Tyler is unwilling to discuss. "Help us," he pleads.

"What? Close the void. Stop the Cybermen. Defeat the Daleks. Do you really believe I can do all that?"

"Yes."

The Doctor face softens now, like a flower shaking out its petals, as he looks at the man. Pete Tyler looks back at him with absolute confidence in his statement and for the first time he sees his Rose in this hardened man.

"Maybe that's all I need. Off we go then!" He grins.

##############################################################################

In the sphere room, Rose and Mickey are still conversing quietly about the Ark and the Daleks possible need of them.

"As the Doctor said, when you travel in time in the TARDIS, you soak up all this... um... background radiation. It's harmless, it's just… there. But in the Time War, the Daleks evolved so they could use it as a power supply."

"They need you."

"You've travelled in time - either one of us would do."

"But why would they build something they can't open themselves?"

"The technology is stolen. The Ark is not of Dalek design," Dalek Sek interrupts.

"Then who built it?" Rose asks.

"The Time Lords. This is all that survives of their Home World."

"What's inside?"

"The future."

##############################################################################

"First of all, I need to make a phone call. You don't mind?" Without waiting for a reply, the Doctor calls Jackie's number from the phone on Yvonne's desk while Pete watches on.

"Help me! Oh, my God, help me," Jackie yells into the phone, her breathing labored and panic evident in her voice.

"Jackie, you're alive! Listen—" but he stops to pull the phone from his ear, shushing her when she screeches at him.

"They tried to download me but I ran away!" She cries.

"Listen, tell me - where are you?"

"I don't know!" She yells as she runs. "Staircase."

After spending some time coaxing an identifiable location from Jackie, The Doctor disconnects their call and takes Jake's gun, upgrading it so it'll be useable on Dalek skin.

He takes a sheet of A4 office paper, races to the Cybermen to propose a temporary alliance, telling himself that this is the _lesser of two evils_ and then racing off the sphere room with his recruits behind him.

As he approaches the sphere room, his army of enemies-turned-allies behind him, awaiting his signal, he hears Rose voice from inside and breathes out a sigh of relief that she's still alive.

"…gonna kill us anyway, so what the hell?" The Doctor tenses. "If you um… escaped the Time War… don't you want to know what happened?"

"Place your hand—"

"What happened to the Emperor?" She popped her 'p' and rolled her 'r's' on the last word, tauntingly. '_Stupid girl! Provoking a Dalek!_'

"The Emperor survived?!"

"'Til he met me..." She told Dalek Sek happily.

The Doctor felt his eyes widen. '_She wasn't supposed to remember any of that. Since when did she remember?! Did she remember the kiss too—no! no. Time and a place.'_

" 'cos if these are gonna be my last words, then you're gonna listen. I met the Emperor. And I took the Time Vortex and I poured it into his head and turned him into dust. Do you get that? The God of all Daleks... and I destroyed him." Her smile shifts evocatively from taunting, to predatory, to taunting again, and she gives one full-bodied "HA!" right in the Dalek's eyestalk, sure it will be the last time she ever laughs again.

"You will be EXTERMINATED!" Dalek Sek screeches in fury but before he can follow through the Doctor has stomped his way loudly into the room.

"Oh now, hold on, wait a minute," the Doctor says to them.

He's identified as the Doctor, takes a quick look at the room through his 3D specs, sees Rose is unharmed, and even takes a moment bump fists with Mickey before being chastised by a Dalek for "social interaction."

He supposes they should just cut to the chase then.

"How did you survive the Time War?" The Daleks demand to know.

"By fighting," he can feel Mickey's shocked eyes on him but he doesn't look – can't look the man in the eye. "On the front line."

Rose, Mickey notices, is watching the Doctor in empathy, and Mickey latches onto another truth: that as surprising at this information is to him, it's old hat to Rose. Rose, who has woken him gently from nightmares, in fear that his convulsing body will lead to an injury. Rose, who hid from him the bruises left over on her hands and wrists from where his fingertips clung too tightly to her skin while he worked to control his breathing and assured himself she was there. And Rose, who'd sat in the library for six hours straight after Krop Tor, although she was exhausted, and listened to him attentively because he was finally ready to share it all – then stayed awake with him in silence while he'd counted all the children he'd killed, before stoking his hair and scalp until he'd fallen, blotchy-eyed, asleep with is head in her lap.

Yes, Rose, Mickey thought, did not look at all surprised.

"I was there at the fall of Arcadia. Someday I might even come to terms with that. But you lot - ran away!" He shifted moods easily, if abruptly into enthusiasm.

He wanted to know why these four Daleks were so special that they had to survive. They are the Cult of Skaro. Not a legend. The real thing. A secret order above even the Emperor, with independent thought, all so they could _kill_ more creatively.

They escaped in the void ship with the Genesis Ark, something of Time Lord origin, though he'd never heard of it. Not that it mattered. If it was made during the War, it was manipulated with touch, an impossible act for a Dalek.

"Technology using the one thing a Dalek can't do. _Touch_. Sealed inside your casing. Not feeling anything... ever... from birth to death… locked inside a cold metal cage," the Doctor leans in closely and whispers. "Completely alone. And that explains your voice. No wonder you _scream_."

The Dalek demands the Doctor open the Ark and he laughs; removing his sonic screwdriver from his pocket and making a comment on its usefulness in opening doors, he activates it and half tackles Rose to the ground as the doors blow inward and the humans and Cybermen force their way in.

The Doctor tells Rose to leave, watching her progression hawk-eyed as she does as he asks before stumbling; looking up to thank her helper she finds herself looking in the eyes of her father, the same shade of butterscotch as her own. The Doctor sighs when she's safe from the battle, warring with the relief that she's okay and anxious to have her near him, he quickly makes the decision to follow after her out into the hall.

In the chaos within the sphere room, Mickey loses his footing and touches the Genesis Ark as he and Jake try to make their escape. The Dalek's evacuate with the opening Ark and hover high in the sky as millions of Dalek's shuffle out of the bigger-on-the-inside Ark and into the open sky above London; back in the room they'd just vacated the alliance between the humans and Cybermen breaks down, and a blood bath ensues behind the locked doors.

##############################################################################

They find Jackie in a corridor, cornered by two Cybermen. In one quick move Pete grabs a gun and shoots both Cybermen from behind, leaving a cloud of smoke where the metal men stood a moment ago.

Jackie squints through the smoke for a moment before her eyes widen in confusion and recognition.

"Pete!"

"Hello, Jacks."

"I said there were ghosts, but that's not fair. Why him?"

"I'm not a ghost." Pete says, smiling at her perturbed voice.

"But you're dead. You died twenty years ago, Pete," she tries to explain to him why he can't be real, before telling the Doctor to shut up, which surprisingly, he does.

Pete smiles.

"Oh. You look old," she tells him. What else should she say to her dead husband who isn't really her husband, she wonders.

"You don't."

"How can you be standing there?"

"Just got lucky... lived my life. You were left on your own. You didn't marry again, or...?"

"There was never anyone else." The Doctor and Mickey share a look until Rose ribs the Doctor and steps on Mickey's foot. Both men wince. "Twenty years, though. Look at me - I never left that flat. Did nothing with myself."

"Brought _her_ up. _Rose Tyler_. That's not bad."

"Yeah," Jackie says before they move on to Pete's success in his own world.

"Thing is though, Jacks, you're... you're not my wife. I'm sorry, but you're not. I mean, we both... You know, it's just sort of...Oh, come here," he cries and starts toward her. Jackie lets out a small cry of her own before running toward Pete and jumping into his hug, letting him spin her around while she cries.

##############################################################################

Going back to the R and D department, the Doctor opens the door and watches the battle between the Cybermen and the Daleks continue taking place. Waiting for the right moment he dives into the room, watched with trepidation by Rose. He picks up two of the magnaclamps, using them to deflect shots coming in his direction as he makes his way back out the door; he trips over the body of a fallen Cyberman but quickly rights himself, making it safely back into the corridor.

**##############################################################################**

In the elevator on their way to the top floor the Doctor keeps Rose's hand fisted so tightly in his he wonders if he isn't hurting her. But she doesn't complain and he is unwilling to loosen his grip for a moment. With his thumb he traces his name onto her skin.

With his plan coming together as it is, he put on his 3D glasses and took a look at all the void stuff, the moment to enact his plan was just moments away and he felt himself being choked under the maelstrom of emotional turmoil. He'd thought they would be facing a _storm_! But this—this is _bloody hurricane_!

##############################################################################

Stepping back out onto the lever room floor, 3D glasses on his face, magnaclamps in hand, The Doctor and Rose gasp in unison – the first to get a look out the window, they now understood exactly what 'Time Lord science' means.

"It's bigger on the inside," the Doctor whispers in horror, and has to bend forward slightly to fight the urge to retch for the second time today.

He hears Mickey asking why the Time Lords would put the Daleks in there but his voice sounds far away. "It's a prison ship." The Doctor replies.

Millions of Daleks. Millions. And millions of Cybermen. And one Doctor.

Pete walks away from the window, unable to watch anymore. "I'm sorry, but you've had it. This world's gonna crash and burn. There's nothing we can do. We're going home. Jacks, take this." He tosses her the yellow button

"But they're destroying the City!" She tells him.

"I'd forgotten you could argue," he says to her affectionately as he puts the chain around her neck for her. "It's not just London, it's the whole world. But there's another world, just waiting for you, Jacks. And it's safe. As long as the Doctor closes the breach. Doctor?" He gives Jackie a long look, begging her to come with him, before looking to the Doctor for assurance.

The Doctor dashes around in the carefully staged exuberance which Rose knows to be fake. She looks to her mum and Mickey and sees recognition in their eyes. He ignores all their gazes, fiddling with the computers and playing with his glasses; he explains the void stuff and haves a quick lark at her mum, all in manic succession, building up to the crescendo of this act when Mickey asks, "What's the Void?" And the group realizes the Doctor is going to send the Daleks and Cybermen to Hell.

"We're all contaminated." Rose says, putting a stop to his act, not at all liking the way he's been avoiding her eyes. "We'll get pulled in."

"That's why you've gotta go."

She feels like he's just slapped her. She has to stop herself from physically staggering back under the weight of her rejection. He still won't look at her; he's even moved to the other side of the room to stop any physical contact. In his mind, she knows, she's already gone.

"Reboot in two minutes." She hears, but she cannot comprehend the words. Her mind has gone stagnant.

"Back to Pete's world," the Doctor clarifies. "Hey, we should call it that - 'Pete's World.'" he says cheerily to Pete before finally looking Rose in the eye. "I'm opening the Void, but only on this side. You'll be safe on that side."

She stares back at him, unblinkingly.

"And then you close it. For good?" Pete asks.

"The breach itself is soaked in Void Stuff, in the end it'll close itself. And that's it. Kaput."

Finally Rose forces herself together enough to speak again, to make him understand what he's saying. "But you stay on THIS side...?"

"But you'll get pulled in!" Mickey gasps, the Doctor and Rose are locked in each other's gaze.

The Doctor breaks eye contact first, grabs the magnaclaps and once again to avoid looking in her direction, afraid of what he might see there. "That's why, I got these. I'll just have to hold on tight - I've been doing it all my life."

"I'm supposed to go," she asks him in a small voice.

"Yeah," the Doctor tells her without looking up, his tone suggesting the fact should be obvious.

But Rose keeps pushing. "To another world, and then it gets sealed off."

"Yeah," he replies in the same monotone voice, eyes glued to the computer monitors in front of him.

She gapes at him, unbelievingly, just twelve hours ago he had been looking her in the eyes as she'd promised him the rest of her life and he'd seemed to believe her – to want her even – only to reject her now because they'd found themselves in danger. They were often in danger (maybe not this much, but this wasn't just his life, it was hers now too. And she loved it.)

To her, this was like 'France: the reprisal.' One night he's telling her he won't leave her like Sarah Jane, the next he jumps on a horse and breaks through a window into the Palace of Versailles, without taking her with him and with no foreseeable way back. He was leaving her.

"Forever." She whispered, this time more to herself than him, she couldn't hold back a flagellating laugh at herself and her absurdity for thinking that he'd even valued her forever. Her life was more important to him than her happiness, but that should never be the case. He'd convinced himself if she was alive and not with him she would just move on like a shallow crush, that way there would be less guilt for him. He could keep her alive forever, imagining how fantastic her life was, putting her on a pedestal and using the loss of her as an excuse to never let anyone in, ever again.

But this is her life, and her choice, and she will not become a willing martyr to his masochistic lifestyle. "That's not gonna happen," she informs him as the whole building gives a shake.

"We haven't got time to argue, the plans works, we go in. You too. ALL of us!" Pete commands.

"No, I'm not leaving him!"

"I'm not going without her," Jackie tells him.

"Oh, my God," he says, if he could, he'd rip out his own hair. One stubborn Tyler woman was purgatory on a normal day, two – on a day when the world was ending, was just too much for any man. "We're GOING."

"I've had twenty years without you, so button it. I'm not leaving her."

"You've _got_ to," Rose said delicately to Jackie, knowing that it would mean being separated from her mum forever, but also that this was her mum's chance. No more going from man to man, always hoping for love and always comparing to love lost. Her lost love was right there and he was promising Jackie a better life.

"Well, that's tough!"

"Mum. I've had a life with you for nineteen years. But then I met the Doctor and... all the things I've seen him do. For me. For you… For all of us. For the whole... stupid planet and every planet out there. He does it alone, mum."

She didn't see the Doctor approaching her with the dimension hopper in his hands or the sadness in his eyes as he took a look at his makeshift family for the last time.

"But not anymore.'Cos now he's got me," she said, backing up and reaching out a hand to him to show everyone, including him, her commitment, once and for all; instead she'd been closing the distance between them so he could get the hopper quickly around her neck.

She turns around just long enough for him to see the betrayal on her face. And then she is gone with Jackie and Mickey and he is alone again…

For exactly eleven seconds.

"I think this is the on switch..." she says, the Doctor's head snaps up from his inspection of the floor to see her standing there.

For a moment his eyes swell with affection, but it's stamped out by a worry so strong it becomes fury, he approaches her and grabs her roughly by the shoulders, shaking her slightly and stooping over her in a way that may have been meant to intimidate, but had no effect on her.

'_She's insane,'_ he thinks.

Even having no idea how to work the dimension hopper, she had blindly returned to him. There are fault lines spanning both worlds, she could have pressed the wrong buttons, could have navigated herself directly into the void. He wants to tell her she had no business risking her life like that, not for him. "Once the breach collapses, that's IT. You will never be able to see her again. Your own mother!"

Rose's body trembles slightly in his grip, but although her body and voice shake, she shows no sign of fear or uncertainty. She looks him calmly in the eye and tells him, "I made my choice a long time ago, and I'm never gonna leave you."

The Doctor stares at her for a moment, not sure how to react or what to think. He remembers his resolve to tell her how he feels when this whole thing is over and realizes for the first time since he felt the storm coming – way back, on a suburban London street in the not too distant future – that he may actually get his chance after all.

"So what can I do to help?" She asks him, holding his gaze until he gives in and more harshly than he means to gives her the order the set the co-ordinates to six.

"And hurry up!" He barks at her again, too worked up to be kind.

"There are Cybermen one floor down," she tells him, but the levers are already operational and the Doctor grins a manic smile at her, encouraging her into their old routine.

"That's more like it, bit of a smile! The old team...!"

" Hope and Glory, Mutt and Jeff, Shiver and Shake!"

"Which one's Shiver?" Asks Rose, her tongue between her teeth in that rather distracting manner.

"Oh, I'm Shake," he says huskily. He's feeling bolder than he ever has, runs the pad of his finger down her arm, letting it graze over the sensitive skin of her inner forearm and wrist; goose bumps rise on her skin and his superior biology tells him her trembling isn't from fear right now. He smiles at her cheekily, satisfied she now knows why she's his Shiver, then allowing the urgency to creep back into his momentary surge of courage.

They activate their magnaclamps near each lever, the expanse of the room dividing them and he tells her that if she holds on she'll be fine. The void stuff didn't coat their skin the way it did the Daleks and Cybermen.

They pushed up their levers and quickly grabbed onto their clamps; lost in the wind caused by the suction a computer chimed, "Online." And Cybermen and Daleks a like went whizzing by them at high speeds.

"The breach is open! Into the Void! Ha!" The Doctor cries in delight, thinking this would work. They'd done it and they were together!

The Doctor's celebration is cut short when a Dalek clashes with the lever near Rose on its way into the void, causing a small explosion of sparks and the lever moves back into the 'off' position.

"Turn it on!" The Doctor shouts to her, even as his muscles clench and his tension multiplies exponentially.

The suction is easing now and though she tries her best to reach it, the lever is too far away. She lets go of her magnaclamp and puts herself in front of it, grunting and whimpering with the effort it takes to get it upright again.

"Online and locked." The computer intones and the suction increases again, with Rose holding onto the lever instead of the magnaclamp, her arms already tired from her struggle of getting it back online in the first place, and now she's being lifted off the ground and stretched in the direction of the breach.

Desperation and dread fill the Doctor as he watches her struggle. "Rose, hold on!"

He can see her strength waning, her cries and whimpers just reaching his sensitive ears over the rushing of the wind as she struggles to keep her grip on the lever even as her body is pulled taut by the suction of the Void. The last of the Daleks and Cybermen are flying past now and if she can just hold on for a few more seconds… just a little bit longer…

"HOLD ON!" He screams at her, because if she lets go now he just might follow and he's only half-exaggerating.

Her fingers _do_ slip from the lever then and he watches helplessly as her body is dragged across the open air of the lever room and toward the Void.

The terror on her face is the last thing he sees of her before can no longer bring himself to watch. It will haunt his dreams every night for the rest of his lives.

He closes his eyes.

The air in the room grows stagnant with an eerie speed, the Void closing in on itself in less than one full second – before the Doctor's Time Lord mind can begin to process the dangers conclusion and the price today had cost him, Rose's body impacts the white wall, hard.

He opens is eyes as wide as they'll, watching in slow motion, his Rose crumbling in a broken pile on the floor. Thanking Rassilon she's here and hoping—oh, he's really hoping she's okay.

He sprints toward her, dropping to his knees as he nears her, he lets his speed slide him to a stop by her motionless body, hearing immediately how alive she is, at least for now.

Rose lays before him, on her side with her arms both raised halfway and bent at the elbow, where they'd landed after her attempt to protect her face and neck from the collision. She was whimpering quietly, her eyes were wet with pained tears, and he could see the effort she seemed to be expending on keeping her chest from convulsing in her tears—or from moving at all, in fact.

The Doctor did a quick check of her spine, neck, and head to make sure it would be safe to move her onto her back and exhaled a fraction of his tension upon finding her neck and spine intact.

But seeing for himself the amount of pain she was in, he still didn't dare move her an inch. Leaning over her, gently brushing some of her hair out her face, he whispered soothingly into her ear for a moment to call her attention away from the pain, not really knowing if she'd be able to hear him through her agony anyway. "I'm going to get the TARDIS, Rose. I'm going to materialize her around you. It'll be okay. I'll be back in ten seconds."

##############################################################################

For Rose it was ten seconds – ten excruciating seconds. But for the Doctor it was almost thirty minutes. The elevator was no longer functional and the Doctor was left to descend the stairs and navigate through the debris and the dead, all the way back to his TARDIS. It left him stymied, the number of humans which lay dead on this battleground; but there wasn't a single Cyberman or Dalek to be seen. The void had wiped way every trace of their existence, including their remains.

##############################################################################

The TARDIS materialized around Rose the moment the past Doctor jogged out of the room, and the Doctor immediately sent them into the Vortex.

Once there he moved her as delicately as possible to a gurney, apologizing all the while for causing her more pain, and rolled her to the infirmary, which was mercifully placed just past the entrance to the North corridor by an accommodating TARDIS.

He used a portable x-ray/MRI device to survey the damage done to her body; blanching at the results and amazed she was still conscious—'_How was she still conscious'—_he wanted to give her a sedative, and he would were he not so terrified she wouldn't wake up.

After cutting her out of her shirt and pants and moving the ruined clothing delicately out from under her, he gave her local anesthetics in the locations of her worst injuries and covered her with several blankets to keep her body warm as it went into shock, moving them as necessary to mend her as best he could. The Doctor set out to undo the damage done, starting with her clavicle and sternum, which had each sustained messy fractures, as well as six ribs, two of which had perforated her left lung (one shard of bone just barely missing her single human heart, he noted). He removed the bones from her lung, patched it and set her bones so they'd heal properly, then using a regenerative tool, he kick started her healing process; he wished he could heal her completely; he wished her lever had been his.

She would be sore for quite a while. He bandaged her chest up – for the bruising already darkening her pale torso there was nothing he could do.

Her pelvis, miraculously, sustained no damage other than heavy bruising and a vivid, red wall burn. He used a dermal regenerator to kick start the healing of the deep scratch on her skin and then rubbed a creamy salve over the still unhealed tear before bandaging it too.

Rose's left hand was shattered; there was no other word to describe it. The bones had fractured like the glass in Yvonne's partition. He spent a great deal of time tending to and resetting the bones in her hand, ensuring they would heal, and would heal fully, with time. Her body would need therapy to recover full range of motion in it and she never have as much strength in it again.

She had dislocated her left shoulder and her right wrist, two easy, if painful fixes, but she'd mercifully succumbed to unconsciousness some time ago. There were cuts and bruises on her knees and two broken toes on her left foot, all of which he was able to repair fully, although the mended bones would be weak for a short while (forced regeneration of the human body was just no substitute for naturally healing, after all).

On the right side of her forehead near her hairline were a large black bump and a few shallow cuts from where her scalp grazed the wall. Picking the dermal regenerator back up he was able to repair her skin back to newness; He still added the salve to stop it from itching, as new skin does. She'd obtained a mild concussion and of course, she'd have whiplash, he knew, but she protected her head from injury very well.

His time sense told him it'd been eight hours and twenty-six minutes since he and Rose had landed on the estate. Six hours and forty-nine minutes since he'd been 'imprisoned' at Torchwood. Four hours and two minutes since the battle in the sphere room. Three hours and thirty-five minutes since she hit the wall. Right about now the evacuation team would be reaching the top floor of Canary Warf – all they would find of Rose and the Doctor to suggest they'd ever been there were the blood stains Rose left behind on the wall.

##############################################################################

It took over three hours to search all the rooms on all the floors in the Canary Warf building. Half of it was in ruins, unable to be navigated and frequently back-tracking had been necessary to finding alternate routes of travel. But after three hours and nine minutes of slowly climbing over the wreckage and bodies littering the floors, the rescue team had reached the top level.

They found the bodies of several scientists scattered throughout a bleach-white room, some with strange ear-pieces in their ears; some had just crumbled to the floor as the men and women on the lower floors had.

This top level had sustained less structural damage than most of those under it.

On the stark whiteness of the walls, the beaten eyes of the evacuation team immediately found the red blood stamped out in glaring contrast to the colorlessness surrounding it. Later, a sample of that blood would be taken and the victim would be identified as a Miss Rose Tyler, age twenty-one. The search party didn't need identification to know what list the owner of that blood would end up on though, not after the horror they had seen today. 'DECEASED/MISSING: PRESUMED DEAD.' And one space above hers, her mother Jackie's name would be etched with hers on a bronze commemorative plaque hung over a memorial on this very spot. Mickey's name would be just a few names about them.

The CCTV camera footage had been destroyed and unsalvageable on multiple floors, including the sphere room, the lever room, and the entire R and D department, as well as the north stairwell, but enough of the footage remained for a general synopsis of the occurrences that played out on what the journalists are calling 'Doomsday,' and how these happenings came to be.

Search and rescue left Canary Warf with grim expressions plastered upon their faces and no desire to ever speak of the carnage they'd witnessed inside, ever again. There were hundreds of employees in that building today, and only forty-six came back out again.

##############################################################################

Feeling exhaustion over the emotional hurricane he had found himself in, the Doctor moved to the cupboard, grabbed Rose a heated blanket and draped it over her to keep her body warm now that shock had finally set in.

He sat down beside her, made to grab her hand but stopped himself just in time when he remembered the state of it; he settled for placing his hand on her cheek and petting her hair worriedly out of her face, repeating, "You're gonna be okay."

The more his eyes drooped the more his statement began to sound like a panicked question. In the background as always, the TARDIS watched over her thief and her Rose. She sang her thief to sleep with comforting hums, wondering if his sanity may actually be dependent upon the answer to his question. With his last seconds of consciousness he was still desperately muttering, "You're gonna be okay. You're gonna be okay."

_You're gonna be okay?_


	3. Bad Wolf Bay

**Author Note: Another quick thank-you for all of your reading and reviews! I'm really sort of blown away with the amount of attention I've gotten in only two days; you're all just wonderful! Anyway. This one had me nervous because it's the first time I've really been able to go off script with the characters and now that we're getting into AU territory I really want to do it – and the characters – justice. So, this is what I have for you guys. I can't wait to hear what you think! :)**

_ You're gonna be okay?_

She woke up gradually, at first confused and disoriented; then she woke up all at once, awareness seeping in around her and an intense discomfort pressing against her chest. Pain radiated from so much of her body it had blended together indistinguishably, until it was one constant ache, throbbing in time with her heart.

Somewhere near her a loud beeping picked up in tempo, she screwed her eyes shut further. When the beeping only grew faster she opened her eyes instead, slowly acclimating herself to the brightness of the room.

The taupe walls and white crown molding looked odd paired with gurneys and futuristic hospital machinery, it'd been scattered with disregard all about the room. Her eyes sparked immediately in recognition.

She had been in the TARDIS infirmary before, usually for quick fixes like broken fingers or skinned knees and palms; once or twice she'd woken up here with a dull headache – and one time a broken leg and bruised ribs – and an exasperated admonishment from the Doctor about her general state of 'jeopardy friendliness' and giving him a 'hearts attack.'

Never had it been like this. Looking around (as well as she could manage without actually moving) for the source of the beeping, Rose's eyes landed on a heart monitor displaying all sorts of readings she couldn't make heads or tails of; she allowed her eyes to flutter closed again, still heavy from exhaustion.

Reaching up with her right hand to her neck, she fingered the small patch which had been stuck there, over her pulse point. The Doctor had explained this to her before; it monitored her pulse and sent the information to the machine with the annoying beeping. Her fingers brushed against something else and that toward the source, she discovered a small oxygen tube had been fixed around her eyes and rested on her cupid's bow, just below her nose.

Realizing just how uncomfortable it was now that she was aware of its presence and only half aware of her actions, Rose wrapped her right index finger around it and had begun to pull it down when a gentle hand halted her, and gruff, admonishing words invaded her ears.

"Stop that!" He veritably hissed at her; her eyes flew open in shock to find his face immediately. She hadn't even realized he was in the room with her.

##############################################################################

_The Doctor had been sleeping restlessly, hunched over in a chair near the head of Rose's bed and dreaming of the color white. In his dream, she was alive and trapped. Out of his reach forever on the other side of the void; safe with her family. Miserable._

_The dream Doctor had watched as the void closed. It took longer in his dream, he noted, for the hole to close in on itself. Rose fell just as she had, but was caught by Pete; and just before they both got sucked into hell forever, Pete engaged the dimension hopper one last time. And they were gone. She was gone. The void closed slowly in on itself._

_The dream Doctor staggered toward the white wall, shock already setting in—she had promised him forever less than one Earth day ago. What sort of cosmic joke was this?!_

_Placing his right hand on the wall and closing his eyes, breathing deeply before drawing even closer so his whole body, cheek to toes was pressed against the flat surface, he could __swear__, he just knew he could feel Rose there—just on the other side. They brushed against each other but they never touched. Then the dream Doctor walked away, knowing he could spend the rest of his life pressed against that wall just to feel her… and that if he didn't leave soon he very well might do just that._

_He swore he heard his dream Rose crying out, banging on the wall until her fingers and knuckles must have been bloodied from her efforts, black streaks marring her beautiful pale cheeks as she sunk in defeat to the ground._

_ Then all the dream Doctor heard were his heavy steps and his increasingly quickening heartbeat…_

He snapped himself out of his dream quickly, his mind registering the sound of a single _human_ heartbeat and realizing that reality had begun to invade his nightmare.

Rose's heart was beating too fast, but it was slowing again into a more natural rhythm; still in a state of partial panic from his too vivid nightmare and the way in which he'd been woken from it, when her right hand had positioned itself to remove her oxygen mask, he'd immediately placed a hand carefully over hers and spoken to her far more harshly than he'd intended… he hadn't intended to be harsh with her at all, as it were.

Rose started, her eyes flying open comically and connecting immediately with his, she attempted (poorly) to conceal a wince from the slight jostling she'd done to her body when he'd surprised her. Her heart rate picked up slightly before leveling out again, just slightly higher than it had been before.

"Sorry," the Doctor continued in a gentler voice, allowing his eyes to soften now that she was awake, and breathing, and in front of him. "You need to keep that on. You perforated your lung and this is helping you breathe more easily. Like that time – you know – on Melvin, when you got rammed in the chest by the Minotaur, remember?" She nodded weakly, muttered "What a stupid name for a planet," and closed her eyes once more in exhaustion. He brought her hand back down to her side and began the ritual of tracing the delicate circles that spelled out his name on the palette of her pale skin.

Less than a day ago when he was doing this is exact same thing he'd made a promise to himself that if they made it through this he would tell her how he felt. Now he admitted to himself that he hadn't prepared himself for the possibility that they might both actually come out of this alive and together… and ashamed of himself as he is for it, the fact is that he isn't brave enough to actually follow through on his declarations.

There is a reason he kept that little bit of his heart out of her reach before the battle, even if he forgot why in the heat of the moment, when he'd been faced with the prospect of losing her forever. There is a reason that he threw Sarah Jane and Reinette between himself and Rose like human shields. Rose, and everything she represented for him, were dangerous. He had responsibilities to the universe and to himself – and he still would, long after she had gone. He knew she understood that. After all, she had promised him her own little forever and it had come with no conditions or expectations he couldn't hope to meet.

'_That's why_,' thought the Doctor, watching his thumb trace its patterns, listening to her heart rate relax into sleep, '_and that's why it's better if you don't know what I feel for you. All of this is so much more tragic if we're star-crossed and standing right beside each other.'_

Still holding her hand the Doctor shuffled to sit back in his chair and watch Rose's sleeping face, musing in sadness that she could see through to the core of every one of his lies, acts, and manipulations, but she couldn't see this. All they'd been through and she still knew they were just best mates—that at the very most he's _fond_ of her. It's the only instance in the entirety of their relationship, he knows, that's she's seen exactly what he wanted her to see, instead of what actually was. '_That may be the most heartbreaking thing of all.'_

##############################################################################

The Doctor has a plan. It's a brilliant plan, if he's being honest with himself. It's also dangerous and borderline mad. He needs to be in the console room to figure out whether it's even possible but he won't leave Rose alone. Torn between the two he eventually decides to simply cart Rose's gurney to the console room with him – '_she'd want me to if she was awake to hear my plan and I am on a bit of a tight schedule, what with the walls closing_.'

That's how Rose wakes up for the second time: disoriented, she finds herself in the console room, and somewhere beyond her vision is the cheery sound of the Doctor 'whooping' in a self-congratulatory manner.

"Wha's goin' on?" She slurs with sleep.

"I found a way for you to see your mum!" The Doctor blurts out manically. He regrets his choice of words before he's even finished his sentence, silently cursing this body for its lack of tact and the need to say a thousand words when three will do. Now he has to take the hope rising in her eyes and crush it. "But this will only work once, for a few minutes. There are still a few small tears left in the skin of the universe and they're closing fast—" He hates himself when he sees her eyes go flat. "But I found the biggest one I could and we're going to send a message through it to her. The TARDIS can make a projection into Pete's world."

He waits for her anger; after all, he'd just given her hope and taken it away in one breath, or regret that she didn't stay with her mum to begin with. He even expects both when he sees tears welling in her eyes and cascading down her cheeks. But Rose is forever surprising him. "I get to see my mum?" He nods. "_Thank you, _Doctor." She says through her tears. She acts to sit up and hug him, gasping in pain and collapsing back onto the gurney, a small cry escaping with the impact and with a few heavy gulps of air she tries to catch her breath.

"Are you alright? Are you hurt?" The Doctor doesn't wait for her answer. He rushes over, checking the small incision marks under her bandages from where he'd cut her skin so he could remove her ribs from her lungs with the precision-instrument he'd picked up from the Terileptil. They hadn't ripped open thanks to the healing his dermal regenerator had done. He chastises himself again for how harsh his voice had come out, but admits that it's a lost cause. As personable as this regeneration typically is, it seems that when he's worried about his Rose, his nine will always come out. He took a half-step away in a show of mild annoyance and huffed at her. "You have to be more careful. This isn't like your other trips to the infirmary, Rose. You're still hurt. You are going to be hurt for a while."

Even with putting slight pressure on her broken hand the way she had, Rose shouldn't have been in as much pain as she clearly was, especially with the medicine she'd been given, and the Doctor didn't know why she seemed to be burning through it so fast.

"Sorry," was all she said, though she looked suitably chastised.

Pinching the bridge of his nose to cover a wince, the Doctor realized he was going to have to move her to a chair anyway. If this was going to be the last time Jackie ever saw her daughter, the Doctor owed it to the woman who had all but called him son-in-law (and she had done that a few times, too) – regardless of the fact that he was centuries her senior – a daughter who wasn't laying ash white on a hospital bed looking close to dead.

He explained his plan to Rose and then gave her more medicine to manage her pain before swiveling the jump seat around and carrying her to it. She asked the TARDIS for concealer and a mirror and expertly covered the bump on her head. Unfortunately, nothing could be done for her bandaged hand, but all her other injuries were coverable once she had finally been seated and made as comfortable as possible.

##############################################################################

Rose watched as the Doctor spun around the console, typing and sonicing, pulling at his hair and threatening the TARDIS with a mallet – but that came to an end the second time she shot sparks at him and singed his brown pinstripe suit-sleeve.

After a few more minutes of working in unison with the old girl, he turned back toward Rose with a mixture of self-import and hesitance. "Okay, I've set the TARDIS up with a power source and for the next eleven minutes or so we'll be able to access Pete's world...

"Now we need to get a message to your mum because I've no way of knowing where the crack will come out," he shuffled toward her and bent down to her eye level, extending his fingers, signifying his askance to connect with her mind. She nodded her head, 'yes' with barely a second's delay.

"Now just think about your mum," he told her as he slowly made the connection between them. Rose felt a momentary flash of panic before her mind recognized the Doctor's and accepted him, their minds embraced with a flash of warmth and reverence felt by both parties. "…and call out to her. _She'll _find _us_."

Concentrating as heavily as Rose was on the image of her mother she barely even registered the Doctor's presence in her mind or in front of her. She thought of her life growing up on the estates: her mum home from work late, exhausted – but still willing to help a seven-year-old Rose with her times tables. Her mum taking a day off work to watch Disney movies with a feverish Rose when she was nine. Her mum, who hadn't been able to afford to buy her a single present for her twelfth Christmas but had still saved and stretched every dime to purchase and then slave away over an only slightly charred Christmas dinner, big enough for Mickey (who's mum and dad had both just up and left him) and Mickey's gran, and a distraught Rita, who's cheating boyfriend had left her with a black eye and an empty savings account; and the look on her mum's face when Rose was gifted with a beautiful red bicycle with a huge pink bow, "from Santa," was all the card had said.

She filled in these memories with the repetition of the word "mum." She made it her mantra. In her desperation to do this right she paid little attention at all to the Doctor, even as he concentrated entirely on her and her memories.

Concentrating was harder for the Doctor than he thought it would be. Around Rose he always found it hard to focus – which might be why he'd made her miss a year, and might explain the old girl's turbulent flying recently – but that had all been manageable. Connecting with her mind in this way was not manageable.

This was not walking through doors as it had been with Reinette; in order for his plan to work both he and Rose had had to tear down a wall and connect through it. This was an open floor plan, albeit on the outermost edge of their minds. Rose's surface memories were his memories. He tried to concentrate on them, and shielded them both from making any of his memories hers.

Such a task really was easier said than done, however. The act of dropping the walls from one's mind willingly, for another being to enter was an intimate act on Gallifrey; typically reserved for _close_ immediate family: parents/guardians, brothers/sisters, (maybe the occasional 'in-law'), and spouses. And the Doctor hadn't had any mental contact since Reinette. With Rose, now, he hadn't experienced this since before the Time War. Goose flesh rose all along his body as it reacted to the contract and he leaned ever closer toward her, just managing to stop himself from resting his forehead against hers.

The Doctor focused again and pushed Rose's thoughts across the void: Jackie helping with math. _"Mum."_ Jackie cuddling with Rose during a sick day. _"Mum…Mum."_ Jackie watching on, near tears, a huge smile on her face as Rose rode a red bicycle around the small flat singing "It's the Most Wonderful Time of the Year." _"Mum…Mum…Mum…"_

The TARDIS beeped in alert and the Doctor unwillingly took his fingers from Rose's head, smiling encouragingly when she looked at him questioningly and gesturing to the console room, where the old girl was replacing their surroundings with the projection of a beach.

**##############################################################################**

"_Last night my mum had a dream. She heard a voice and it was calling her name. She told dad and Mickey. Anyone else would think she'd gone mad. But not those two; they believed it. Because they know me and the Doctor. So they listened to the dream. And that night, they packed up, got into dad's old Jeep and off they went. Just like her dream said. Followed the voice... across the water... kept on driving hundreds and hundreds of miles. Because her daughter was calling... Here we all are at last. And this is the story of how I died."_

Rose's scrutiny over her new surroundings come to a halt as, in the middle of the beach she spots her mum standing there, waiting. Being held by a crushing grip on her mum's right is Mickey Smith, and on her left, Pete. Rose holds in a choked cry at the sight while standing behind her with hands lightly on her shoulders the Doctor winces, hoping he gave her a high enough dose to keep her most of her discomfort away for at least the next few minutes – worrying the inside of his lip, because with the speed at which her body was burning off her medicine it would be a close call.

"Where are you?" Mickey asks.

Sparing a brief glance at Mickey before turning back to her mum Rose answers. "Inside the TARDIS."

"There's one tiny little gap in the universe left, just about to close. And it takes a lot of power to send this projection, I'm in orbit around a super nova." All eyes swivel around to look at the Doctor at this confession before shock melts into either affection or understanding, and in Rose's case an emotion that frightens but does not at all surprise him. He laughs slightly, "I'm burning up a sun just to say goodbye."

"You look like a ghost," Jackie finally manages to choke out.

The Doctor pulls out his sonic and points it at something behind him. "Hold on…"

Jackie lets go of Mickey's hand and takes two steps forward, Pete still in tow. "What happened to your forehead?" She asks, before dismissing the question as unimportant with a shake of her head. She lifts her hand up to Rose's cheek but stops short of touching her when Rose's eyes well up and she shakes her own head, no.

"We're just an image. No touch."

"Can't you come through properly?" Jackie's voice trembles.

"The whole thing would fracture. Two universes would collapse."

"So?" Jackie says and both she and Rose bark out a half-hysterical chuckle. "Pete tried to use the jumper—to come back for you. But it stopped working; figured you'd done it, closed up the Void…"

The group is silent for a moment then, taking each other in. In everyone's distress no one notices just how _floored_ the Doctor is by Jackie's last statement. His dream. It hadn't been a dream at all. He'd been seeing the unfulfilled timeline. Rose had been the temporal tipping point and she had saved herself, and the Doctor was floored.

In the alternate timeline Rose hadn't been able to get the lever back online as quickly – she had struggled and the suction of the Void had slowed down further, making it take longer to close. In reality she had pushed through her exhaustion and pain and shoved the lever back into place in almost no time at all. The Void had barely had time to lose suction before Daleks and Cybermen were once again whizzing by their heads and the Void had closed in on itself much sooner and much more quickly. Time had been kind just this once and left both Pete and Rose in the universes where they belonged, even if Rose had been injured.

But they don't have long to say goodbye, so the Doctor forces himself to stop reliving the timeline that would never be, and move the conversation along.

"Where are we? Where did the gap come out?"

"Bloody _Norway_." Jackie says in distaste.

"Norway. Right…"

"About fifty miles out of Bergen." Pete speaks up, even while his eyes are locked on his pseudo-daughter and the jump seat she hasn't moved from with narrowed eyes. "It's called 'Dårlig Ulv Stranden'."

"Dalek?!" Both the Doctor and Rose squeak.

"Dårl-IG," says Mickey with a smirk and a throaty chuckle. "It's Norwegian for 'bad'…this place translates as 'Bad Wolf Bay'."

The Doctor's eyes bug out like a cartoon and Rose's jaw snaps open and closes in quick succession.

"How long have we got," asks Rose, turning slightly in her seat to look at the Doctor.

"About two minutes..."

She looks back at her mum and laughs a real, disbelieving laugh. "I can't think of what to say!"

The trio laugh with her even as tears begin running down Jackie's face.

"They've still got you then, Mr. Mickey," the Doctor jokes.

"There's six of us now. Pete, Mickey, his gran, Jake... and the baby.

"You're—" Jackie nods before Rose can finish and beside her Pete preens.

The Doctor laughs gladly and Rose sadly smiles, knowing both her mum and herself made the right choices, but devastated nonetheless that she'll never see her again, will never know her sibling.

"She's three months gone. More Tyler's on the way," Pete says for Jackie, who is looking at Rose with heavy eyes.

"Mickey Smith," Rose says, finally looking to Mickey for their final good-byes. She recalls what he said to Rajesh in the sphere room not long ago. "No longer the tin-dog. 'Defender of the Earth.'"

Mickey smiles back at her and nods. "Rose Tyler. No longer a shop girl. '_Defender of the Earth_.'" Their watery eyes linger on each other for another moment, but this is as close to a real good-bye as either was willing to get.

"You're dead," The Doctor starts again, his hands gesturing to Mickey and both Tyler women, because time is still winding down too quickly. "Officially, back home. So many people died that day and you've all gone missing. You're all on a list of the dead."

Rose begins to cry quietly.

"Here you are," he continues. "Living a life day after day."

"Are we ever gonna see you again?" Jackie asks the both of them, tears making snail trails down her face.

"You can't," regret drenched his words.

"I love you," Jackie chokes out to her daughter, who nods and replies in kind, in a quiet tear-choked voice. Then she looks up at the Doctor with penetrating eyes and begins to make loving, absent-minded strokes to her stomach. "And you, you plum. I love you, too. And this baby is going to grow up hearing all about you – the both of you. And how you save the whole universe. And it'll lo-love you both too…" She stopped short to exhale a ragged sob before forcing herself continue with some semblance of coherency. "I'm proud to call you family, Doctor; you—you remember th-that."

With her sobs quickly escalating into hyperventilation she looked at her daughter one final time. "I am—I am going to mis-ss you so-o much, Rose. I l—I love y-you."

And then Jackie Tyler allowed her face to crumble, gave into her tears. Rose, who's crying had also been spiraling toward hyperventilation, in devastation at first and now also in pain, sobbed for her mother. "I love you, t-too, mu-mum. And I'll never forget you a-and—I'll miss you all! I love you." Then she too, succumbed to her sobs.

The Doctor was out of time, so speaking quickly and eyes red from unshed tears of his own he let his gaze sweep across the trio before him before settling his eyes on Jackie for the very last time. "Thank-you, for _everything_. And, I suppose since this is my last chance to say it… Jackie Tyler, I l—" He doesn't get to finish his sentence before the Doctor and Rose find themselves back in the console room.

The Doctor quickly grabs the portable oxygen tube as well as a paper bag, (sometimes you can't beat the classics as a cure,) holding it up to the face of a now fully hyperventilating Rose; he gives her another injection for her pain, even as tears run down his own face.

As her breathing regulates and the pain in her chest subsides slightly, her eyes begin to droop, and she falls asleep with her right fist clutching his oxford, his own arms wrapped carefully around her fragile body.

He tosses the bag, makes sure the oxygen tube is adjusted on her nose and picks her up off the seat, placing her back on the gurney in the corner of the room and wiping the tear tracks off her face with his thumbs.

Behind him, he hears a loud "squeak." Spinning around quickly on his heel he puts himself between Rose and the threat, positioning his hand so he can grab his sonic screwdriver if necessary. Instead, he spots a woman in white, her hair red (he registers enviously) and her back to him.

"What?" He shouts, otherwise speechless.

The woman turns around and squeaks again at the sight of him.

"What?!" The Doctor asks again, more confused at the stowaway's apparent surprise.

"Who are you," she demands. "Where am I? What the hell is this place?" She gets increasingly agitated when all the Doctor can reply with are single word nonanswers.

"But—What?!" He sputters as she continues to yell at him. "WHAT?!"

##############################################################################

On a desolate beach Mickey wipes tears from his eyes and clears his throat repeatedly. Pete, whose own eyes are dry but red-rimmed just the same, consoles a Jackie Tyler who had been brought to her knees by an overwhelming sorrow.

But Jackie Tyler would be okay. She had said her piece and made her good-byes and her daughter was happy and loved; Jackie hadn't bothered wasting her last precious moments with her family as a whole with demands and promises of safety. She knew that as long as Rose was with the Doctor, she would be protected to his very last breath.

She had seen her daughter today, and she finally understood what Rose had meant when she'd said "It's a better life" that day in the chip shop when they'd thought the Doctor was going to die. Her little girl had saved the whole universe today. And some day she figured the Doctor would be too slow to save her baby, but when that day came Rose would not have any regrets. _"There is a word,"_ thinks Jackie, _"missing from the English language. Something between worry, and pride."_

After a few minutes, Jackie rose up from the ground. She brushed the damp sand from her knees and stood up tall. She made a silent vow as she stood there overlooking the crashing waves. Jackie Tyler would live a fantastic life, with no regrets, and she would never forget her daughter or the amazing alien devoted to her…devoted to all of them, really.

Jackie Tyler knew how that sentence was going to end.


	4. The Runaway Bride

** Author Note: Hello again! Alright so moving right along… I'd like to thank you again for your continued support of this story. I can't tell you how much I appreciate it every time I see my writing is being enjoyed. And thanks to my reviewers! I really love hearing from you and I hope you'll continue to give me your feedback along the way. As I've said, I've begun to break away from the script and this being my first fanfic, I was nervous I wouldn't do the characters or the original dialogue justice. That said, I also didn't want to make the story drag on. So this is what I ended up with. I hope you like it! Until next time. –AMouse**

If there was one thing Donna Noble knew about herself, it was that she was average. She lived an average life, had an average job, and was minutes away from being married to an average bloke. It was therefore especially disturbing when, on the most important day of her life, Donna Noble found herself suddenly glowing. In the blink of her eye she'd gone from standing in the chapel to standing in a strange, dimly lit room.

She had been half way down the aisle, her arm linked through her father, Geoff's. Now she was in a cavernous room with high vaulted ceilings and coral struts made to look dilapidated by the blue ambient lighting. A pleasant humming seemed to emanate the room from all directions.

She gave out a surprised 'squeak.' This was distinctly _not_ Saint Mary's!

"What?" Exclaimed a male voice behind her. She spun in alarm at the sound.

After a short exchange of loud words in which Donna feigned fury to cover her terror and the man kept adding more levels of confusion to his voice, the latter of the two finally jumped into action.

"You can't do that… I wasn't... we're in flight! That is—that is physically impossible! How did—?" Asked the strange man, adding in the use of hand motions and hair pulling to demonstrate dramatically his inability to comprehend.

This man, Donna decided immediately, was not average. His hair was neatly arranged to look as though he'd just rolled out of bed and even the damage he had just inflicted to his roots had only added to the artfully styled disarray. His suit was brown wool with blue pinstripes and he wore a white oxford and brown argyle tie. On his feet – inexplicably, were a pair of off white chucks, scuffed and worn from age and excess use.

"Tell me where I am!" She demanded of him. "I demand you tell me right now! Where am I?"

He stood there gawking at her like she was the odd one in their pair; when he did speak his voice was a flat line. "Inside the TARDIS."

She gathered up all the contempt she could manage for this man, obviously the source behind the trick which was keeping her even now from becoming Mrs. Lance Bennett. "The what?"

"The TARDIS." He enunciated, making Donna bristle. Donna may be average but she was not stupid; no way would she allow her _kidnapper_ to talk to her as though she was.

"The what?" She spat.

"The TARDIS!" Her kidnapper said in a louder voice. It seemed he believed the source of the problem was bad hearing instead of abduction and pretend words!

"The what?" She asked again at an all-time high, making him wince. His head twitched, the beginnings of a gesture that suggested he was about to look over his shoulder, but he seemed to reconsider, instead moving over to the large structure in the middle of the temple-like room.

This time he attempted an explanation in a tone more appropriate for use indoors. "It's called the TARDIS."

Partially following his actions at the structure, Donna began to taking in more of the room as a whole. The structure itself contained, at its heart, the strange iridescent blue light. It pulsed up and down in the time with the humming and although the sight of it evoked in her a curious warmth, it also left her distinctly uncomfortable; she had the oddest sensation – as though she were feeling the amusement of someone other than herself.

On the structure were various bits and bobs. A whisk, a bicycle pump, a computer keyboard, some levers held in place with string or mended with duct tape, and many, many buttons. Though she didn't risk turning her back to her kidnapper for a more thorough inspection, Donna could see that on the walls along the room were many roundels, some housing more miscellaneous odds and ends, others appeared empty.

Silently chastising herself for allowing her curiosity to distract her at a time like this, Donna again steeled herself, spitting out venomously, "That's not even a proper word. You're just saying things!"

The man made a face reminiscent of an outraged five-year-old and she had the distinct impression that he'd had to swallow back a 'nu-uhhhh' before it could escape his lips. "How did you get in here? He asked her instead.

Stiff with indignation – '_The gull of this man!'_ – she barely managed to restrained herself from physically assaulting him.

"Well, obviously, when you kidnapped me. Who was it? Who's paying you? Is it Nerys? Oh, my God, she's finally got me back. This has got Nerys written all over it."

He was still just standing there, looking her up and down in confusion. Although Donna wasn't yet willing to believe it she was beginning to get the impression that his man was as sincerely confused as he appeared to be.

"Who the hell is Nerys?" He pouted.

"Your best friend."

"Hold on, wait a minute - what're you dressed like that for?" He wanted to know.

"I'm going ten pin bowling." She condescended. "Why do you think, Dumbo? I was halfway up the aisle! I've been waiting all my life for this. I was just seconds away! And then you—I dunno—you drugged me or something!"

"I haven't done anything!" Said the man with vehemence, finally looking up from whatever he was doing for more than a few sporadic seconds at a time.

"We're having the police on you! Me and my husband—as soon as he is my husband—we're gonna sue the living backside off ya!" She adds in a shake of her fist for good measure.

Just as her ranting tapers off, Donna catches salvation in the corner of her eye in the form of a wooden door. Running to it intent on escape she pays no heed to her captor's urgent tone, "Wait a minute!" '_Well, of course you would say that, wouldn't you!'_

Shuffling as best as she could in her wedding gown and heels, Donna made it to the narrow double doors and pulled them open with a vigor that sent them slamming into the walls on either side of the frame… and froze dead in her tracks. Her mouth agape, her mind for the shortest of moments was peacefully blank before it reached a crescendo of frenzied activity.

Because laid out before average Donna Noble was the universe. Literally, the universe. Her eyes roved with crazed intensity, utterly terrified and utterly transfixed over the _size_ of it and _the sight of it all_! Before her, dust and gas swirled lazily in colors the likes of which she had never imagined existed, all of it floating in synchronicity within and around the rocks and debris.

And there—in the distance, half obscured by the swirling gases amid the expanse of sky was a star, blazing yellow-orange and dying. Space, Donna realized, was not black or empty at all. Every visible speck of the universe before her eyes was littered with color and even where there was nothing there was no black to be seen. Instead there were stars; there were so many—she recalled a time when as a child she had taken handfuls of glitter and thrown fists full of it into the air _'To make the world more beautiful,'_ she'd told her gramps; now as Donna stood looking out into space she thought this was where the glitter must have gone.

Something inside Donna that had long since burnt out sparked back to life in those few seconds gazing out of the wooden doors. It rose to the surface just for a moment before being shoved back down and forced to submit to her pent-up rage and fear, and the sense of voicelessness she had long drug behind her on heavy chains; but for those few wondrous seconds, Donna had felt like her heart would break from the ecstasy of it all.

"You're in space." The pinstriped man's voice burst the bubble on her thoughts. "Outer Space. This is my... space-ship. It's called the 'TARDIS'."

"How am I breathing?"

"The TARDIS is protecting us."

"Who are you?"

"I'm the Doctor. You?"

"Donna…"

The Doctor looks the bride up and down again, contemplatively. "Human?" He finally wonders.

"Yeah. Is that optional?"

"Well, it is for me." He tells her matter-of-factly.

Donna glances at him but can't make herself feel surprise anymore.

"You're an alien." She states, just to clarify. '_Definitely not an average bloke then.'_

"Yeah."

She tells him she's cold for lack anything better to say, because her has got gooseflesh rising on her bare arms. He slams the 'TARDIS' doors shut in compliance before darting back over to what she can now only assume is the console of his spaceship, beginning to murmur to himself – or maybe to the room at large – about her impossibility and temporal something's or alignments with Chro-something shells. By the time his excited theories had escalated to – she presumed – begin the testing of his hypothesis, Donna had had quite enough, thank-you! Leaning back and putting her weight into it she slapped the spastic alien full across the face.

"What was that for?!" The Doctor sputtered in affront.

"Get me to the church!" She yelled.

He turned back to the controls and started circling the console in preparation to begin piloting; Donna thought she heard him muttering under his breath something like, "Almost as bad as Jackie…"

"Right! Fine! I don't want you here anyway! Where is this wedding?"

"Saint Mary's, Hayden Road, Chiswick, London… England… Earth… the Solar System!" Donna ended in a fit of pique (a result of his slight of her prodding at her an old insecurity).

Her eyes had again been following him as he rounded a corner to the other side of the console, giving her a first glance at a shadowy corner of the console room. Tucked away in that corner were two things: a threshold leading to a similarly dim corridor, and gurney surrounded by medical equipment and supporting what appeared to be a human being.

##############################################################################

Suddenly, seemingly out of nowhere, Donna began screaming—blood-curtlingly loud and sharp—she backs away from the Doctor, putting as much distance between them as she can, pressing herself against the wall even as his head shoots up in surprise and locks onto her colorless, horrorstruck face.

"I knew it." She managed to get out the words with barely any hesitancy; though why after such a strong reaction she cared to act fearless was a mystery. "Acting all innocent!"

She points an accusing finger in the direction of the corridor and the Doctor looks over to the medical bed and equipment where Rose was still – mercifully – unconscious.

Donna wasn't entirely wrong, the Doctor thought. He had been avoiding walking toward or even looking at that corner of the room in an attempt to avoid exactly this reaction. Rose needed rest in order to heal. It had only been hours since her collision with that wall and she was in pain every wakeful moment. The constant yelling – understandable as it may be – Donna had been doing since the moment she arrived on the TARDIS was not conducive to a peaceful sleeping environment. (_Moreover, _thought the Doctor, _the only thing more frightening than Rose Tyler suffering is a Rose Tyler roused from sleep before her time._)

"I'm not the first, am I? How many women have you abducted?" She demanded of him.

"I haven't abducted anyone! I was taking you home, remember? And I didn't abduct _her_ either; she's my friend. She's also hurt and asleep so I would appreciate it if you could keep your voice down, thanks."

Though apparently surprised by his outburst, this being the first instance where'd he'd shown any sort of real ire, she pushed on, heedless of volume or tact, all the while edging her way along the outer walls of the console room in an attempt to bring herself closer to Rose, probably to protect her from the kind of mad alien experiments she'd seen on movies and the History channel, the Doctor imagined.

"I'll say she's hurt; look at the state of her! What did you say you called yourself, 'the Doctor?' Doctor what? _Kevorkian?!_"

The Doctor's whole demeanor had been shifting subtly during the duration of Donna's accusations, but calling him 'Doctor Kevorkian' had been a low blow (one she hadn't known she'd made, but had none-the-less meant). The Doctor often felt like a bringer of death. But insinuating as Donna had that he would ever intentionally cause Rose lasting physical harm incensed him, and his ire quickly morphed into a moment of open hostility.

"I would _never_ hurt her," he spat in antipathy; just the idea of causing Rose pain making him slightly hysteric. He resolved to move himself back to the console, catching the look 'deer in headlights' look which passed over Donna's face before turning his back to her. The faster he got her out of his TARDIS the faster he could get Rose into her own bed and maybe catch a few hours of sleep himself.

Still, he kept one eye on Donna, lest she do anything to disturb Rose's rest. He didn't want to scare Donna further but that was not something he would allow to happen.

Luckily it seemed he needn't have bothered. She appeared to have measured his tone and his expression and reached the conclusion that he was being genuine. That, or she had finally gotten close enough to Rose that her human eyes could make out the heart monitor, IV line, oxygen and her carefully bandaged body through the darkness.

"What happened to her?" She asked softly. There was a sort of motherly concern to her voice that made the Doctor close his eyes and think of the odd sort of surrogate mother he had just said his last good-bye to.

"I almost lost her."

Donna levels him with the steely glare he has already come to associate with her 'tough guy' act. "Well, you can hurry up and lose me!" Her eyes soften however, as his words belatedly register; she seems to appraise him deeply, her eyes searching his for a moment before nods her head in recognition of whatever it was she'd been looking for. "How do you mean, 'lost'?"

The Doctor glares darkly at her for a moment and there is a momentary lapse in her armor. A small spike of fear in her eyes, gone just as quickly as it came. "There was a battle." Was all he was willing to say – though he surprised himself by saying anything at all.

Making an obvious move to push the conversation along, the Doctor claps his hands together; "Right! Chiswick."

They stepped out of the TARDIS onto a crowded street that was clearly not Chiswick. The Doctor hadn't realized it for longer than he felt was acceptable but something was definitely wrong with the old girl; it had been since the last gap in the universe had sealed.

While he stoked her worriedly and tried to get an answer to what ailed her, Donna had taken her first look at the outside of the 'spaceship'. Remaining oblivious to Donna's revelation and concurrent examination of the outside of the TARDIS, the Doctor had begun assailing her with questions of possible alien contact or lights in the sky, rounded off his line of questioning by insinuating her fiancé might be a Slitheen.

Meanwhile, having finished with the outer examination Donna sticks her head back inside the doors to confirm one last time that yes, it is in fact bigger on the inside; she stumbles back a step and clamps a hand over her mouth before turning tail and barreling away – the Doctor, who had finally noticed her silence and gone to investigate following close behind.

Once he'd caught up to her he had fallen into step beside her and began trying to induce her to return to the TARDIS, but she firmly declined and would not be swayed.

Now, away from the oddity of the Doctor's impossible machine, Donna remembers her wedding and realizing after a quick glance at her watch that she is about to miss it. After a suggestion from the Doctor that she use a cell to ring her mum (although he himself had no phone to offer her and Donna wasn't carrying hers—"I'm in my wedding dress. It doesn't have pockets! Who has pockets? Have you ever seen a bride with pockets? When I went to my fitting, do you think I said "Alison, the one thing I forgot to say is give me pockets!") and rude comment, Donna storms off again, shouting "bloody Martian" in parting; after a moment spent sputtering, "I'm—I'm not... I'm not... I'm not from Mars," he once again trails after her.

Getting increasingly frustrated as all attempts to hail a taxi fail (and increasingly self-conscious as she receives more than one demeaning comment from random blokes – the 'dressed in drag' comment earning her a look of appraisal from the Doctor) Donna manages as much as a thankful smile in the Doctor's direction when he finally intervenes and a cab stops for them.

Her smile ends up being short lived since neither have got any money. '_Just as well, really'_, thinks the Doctor, as he's just remembered Rose, now guilty for running off and letting her slip from his mind and also torn because he really has no choice but to stay with Donna to figure this out.

Donna eventually spots a phone box. As they start toward it with a plan to reverse the charges so she can make her call, she admits her distaste of the holiday to the Doctor – a confession which earns her a prolonged gape.

He holds open the phone box door for her once they reach it, then sonics the phone so she can make her call; when she questions him on how he'd made it work he mutters "something Martian," then dismisses himself to give her privacy as well as to find a cash point to borrow some money.

It's only a short while later that the Doctor spots the trumpet playing Santa; he nearly rolls his eyes at his luck. '_If Rose were here she'd make a 'why does every Christmas always end like this,' comment... and I'd roll my eyes and say 'not always.' Then she'd hold up her fingers and say: "The Gelth, that time we lost Jack in the snow and he lost his sweater and had to keep warm with that elf-thing overnight, the Sycorax, that Christmas with the Bronte sisters when you 'accidentally' had them convinced you were courting them all and they started a hair pulling match right in the middle of the turkey carving, and now more robot Santa's…" "Oh, okay, yes…fine." I'd frown, "I suppose our Christmas's do tend to—'_

The Doctor shook his head to clear his thoughts. This was why Rose was dangerous! She had already long since had the tendency to pervade his thoughts in the middle of important and dangerous situations, how much worse would it be if they ever attempted any sort of relationship.

Whilst the Doctor had been daydreaming, Donna had stopped another taxi (this time with money she'd begged off a pedestrian); sticking her head out the window, she hollered, "Thanks for nothing, spaceman! I'll see you in Court," as her cab passed him by – robot Santa at the wheel.

Trumpet Santa's closing in from one direction and Donna having unknowingly rode off in danger in another, the Doctor swivels around with sonic in hand, directing it at the cash point he directs the machine to spit its contents into the air; a crowd accumulates immediately and in the frenzy, as people duck and weave and stuff their pockets with as much money as possible the Doctor is able to make his escape to the TARDIS, intent on saving Donna Noble from whatever the mad ginger woman had gotten herself into.

##############################################################################

Reaching the TARDIS doors at a sprint and using nimble fingers to quickly unlock and push his way inside, sending a cursory glance toward Rose to find her still asleep (with stronger vitals), the Doctor launches himself at the console with a regretful apology to the old girl for forcing her to fly while she's sick.

##############################################################################

Rose starts awake almost the moment the – frankly rougher than the Doctor had anticipated – flight commenced. Before even the sleep had passed she had been feeling around with clumsy hands for the bed controls, which upon finding had the button which would give her the means to sit herself up.

With a better vantage point Rose is able to watch the Doctor's unusually aggressive piloting of the TARDIS; she winces in empathy at the feeling of the TARDIS's pain in the back of her mind and she's about to yell at him for hurting her but then he's apologizing to the old girl and stroking her lovingly on the spot he'd just taken the mallet to; the TARDIS hums in forgiveness and understanding, which induces a confused Rose to hold her tongue.

She watches as he begins to fiddle with a large lever with a spatula taped to it whilst rummaging through his pockets; engrossed as she is in trying to understand what is happening, it takes Rose a moment to realize that he's now also looking over his shoulder at her alarmed face. She peers back at his as best she can with the gurney under her rattling around in the thrashing of the console room.

"I'm sorry I woke you." The Doctor has to raise his voice over the turbulence to be heard. "Bit of a thing…well—I say 'thing', I mean a problem; there's a problem…more than a bit of one, actually." He gives up his pocket diving for the moment to thwack the console with the mallet again. "Picked up an extra passenger by accident; she was trying to get married and then she was in the console room… Anyway, long story short… was trying to get her back to her fiancé when she hopped into a cab and got abducted by robot Santa—remember them Rose?—so now—the TARDIS isn't feeling well—I'm piloting a flying the old girl across the motorway and trying to catch up to Santa's taxi!"

He ends in excitement and she smiles at him toothily for his ability to be enthusiastic under the circumstances; then the TARDIS tips on its side and Rose's gurney almost topples over.

Adrenaline is a funny little glandular secretion. As the gurney rolls across the room shaking Rose finds she's in very little pain. Instead, she looks over a the Doctor and asks him, "How can I help?"

"Help?!" He looks at her incredulously. "You want to help? Rose, half of your body was just artificially sewn back together; you can't get out of bed! You want to help?"

"Yes." She nodded.

##############################################################################

Around them the TARDIS hummed exhaustedly, which made the Doctor frowned. He could feel the old girl nudging his consciousness, directing his eyes to the rack under Rose's gurney where an extra saline drip, a pair of crutches, and a folded black hover chair had been stored.

He knew immediately what the TARDIS was suggesting. He'd known that chair was there but he hadn't intended to help her into it for days; she wasn't strong enough to be moved as much as she already had been (and she'd be incredibly lucky if all the thrashing of the gurney didn't lead to further injury), let alone the fact that in that chair she could bump into things, or the strain on her already tired muscles sitting erect in the chair would cause in just a short amount of time.

Still, he saw the old girl's point. Rose already knew how to operate the chair. They had once spent hours racing around the TARDIS garden in them before tag had meandered into bumper chairs. That was the night they'd ended up in the library with cold pizza and hot tea to finish Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban before Rose had plead exhaustion and gone off to her room.

Seeing little choice since he couldn't find any string in his pockets anyway, after all, not even he could save Donna and operate a sick TARDIS at the same time, he gave up his search, crossing the room and just managing to intercept Rose's gurney from wobbling right into the safety rail.

"Fine." He said in a gruff voice that would have been much more at home on the face of this Doctor's predecessor. He held down the gurney with a deceivingly strong arm, stopping it from all but the most aggressive of shaking as he reached under the bed, dragging out the hover chair out, unfolding it, and locking it into place in one swift move.

Then he folded down the bedrail. "You will be careful." He told her gravely in a voice that claimed authority. "You will do exactly as I say, do you understand me?"

For a moment there was indignation in her eyes but she didn't arguing, only gave one stiff nod. He took her gently under the knees, helping her swing her body so her legs dangled off the bed. He gently slid her forward from the gurney, always trying to keep her as level and steady so no more damage to her body would be done.

Once he'd placed her securely in the chair and strapped her in as tightly as he dared, he had made a point of reminding her not to use her left hand no matter what. (He doesn't really think she will but he knows adrenaline is coursing her body from the high stress of the situation and that her mind is ignoring her pain.) Still, he supposes three hands are better than two.

He quickly shows her what levers to push to keep the TARDIS's momentum and how to keep her level if she tilts this way or that; then he draws her attention to the lever he had been holding earlier and states explicitly that she is not to pull it down unless he tells her to do so.

Then he's sprinting to the TARDIS doors and throwing them open, one arm extended above his head, his hand latched onto the frame so he dangle the majority of his body precariously out the open doors.

He's teetering side-by-side with the cab, watching Donna as she presses her hands and face against the window.

"Open the door!" He yells, repeating himself when she doesn't understand him at first.

"I can't, it's locked!"

The Doctor sets his sonic to deactivate the child safely latch so Donna can roll down her window.

"Santa's a robot." She whisper-yells like a person sharing a secret in confidence.

"Donna, open the door."

"What for?"

"You've got to jump!"

"I'm not bleedin' flip jumping," She shrills at him. "I'm supposed to be getting married!"

The cab picks up speed as Santa tries to break away from the TARDIS. "Pull the lever!" The Doctor yells back to Rose.

A small explosion sounds behind him and Rose lets out a small howl of pain; the Doctor turns his head enough to see sparks in the corner of his eye Rose clutching her right hand in a closed fist against her chest, her chin and shoulders tucked in instinctually to protect herself.

"Rose!" He yells to her. As much as he regrets letting her into that chair he can't run to her right now; what he needs is for her to resume her ministrations and get the TARDIS leveled out again.

"I'm alright! Sorry, 'm fine!" She yells back – though he expects she's really not – he's forced to take her at her word on it for the time being.

Forcing his attention back to the motorway just as Rose's inattention leads to the poor girl to skim the roof a car, he lets out a relieved sigh when she begins to level out and surge ahead. '_Surely Rose can't have been too hurt in the explosion if she's still able to navigate.'_

Gaining enough momentum to put the TARDIS back in line with the taxi, the Doctor aims his sonic screwdriver, deactivating the robot driver.

"Listen to me—you've got to jump!"

"I'm not jumping on a motorway," Donna cried.

The Doctor pointed at the hibernating robot in the front seat. "Whatever that thing is, it needs you. And whatever it needs you for, it's not good. Now, come on!"

"I'm in my wedding dress!"

"Yes! You look lovely!" He told her, compressing as much sarcasm into his words as possible. Thanks to his Time Lord senses, Rose's suppressed chuckling reached his ears over the cacophony of rushing wind and cars outside. "Come on!"

It was hard for the Doctor to look Donna Noble in the eye. Since she'd met him she had been intermittently angry, afraid, or disappointed. Even now as she opened the door of the moving cab she was panting in terror.

"I can't do it." She shook her head in defeat.

"Trust me."

"Is that what you said to her? Your friend? The one laying in there half dead? Did she trust you?"

"Yes, she did." He says to her with a small, sad smile on his face. "And she is so alive! And she's going to stay that way. Now, jump!"

With a scream Donna flings herself across the distance into the open doors of the TARDIS, crumbling onto the floor, the Doctor laid out under her.

Taking it upon herself, the old girl slams her own doors shut even as Rose flies them away from the motor pool flipping a switch essentially equivalent to 'putting her in park' so the TARDIS can hover for a moment while they catch their breaths.

##############################################################################

Pushing her off of him, the Doctor jettisons himself to his feet and takes mammoth-sized strides away from Donna, toward the console. Following his trajectory Donna sees a pale woman with deep circles cradling her eyes; she was frowning at the Doctor as he hastened toward her perch – '_a floating chair'_. Even Donna's thoughts had deadpanned; she thought that nothing would surprise her ever again.

The Doctor, in his dash to the girl, (for Donna had stepped slightly closer and now realized the girl was just slightly too young to be considered 'a woman') had apparently forgotten she was there; though slightly irked at being ignored after the day she had been having Donna resigned herself to politely observing the pair, feeling just now wasn't the time for interruption.

The contradictory nature of the Doctor confused her, although she wasn't sure why. Already she had grown accustomed to the Spaceman's quick shift in tempers, as well as the oscillating body language. She recognized in the display before her how body language gave away the sincerity of his emotions, even as with his words he tried to hide behind.

"Let me see." He barked at the frowning girl with his hand held in expectance. Clearly he hadn't felt the need to ask; though the blonde's ocher eyes flashed at the demand in his voice she complied without much hesitance, placing her right hand on his much larger palm.

"It was nothing," the girl spoke tiredly; her brash dialect at odds with the lilting sound of her voice. Donna thought bafflingly of the way wild dogs bark and growl boorishly when threatened. It was only when they were alone that they could be heard through her open window, whimpering and howling in melodic cadence under the open sky. The sound had used to set Donna's teeth on edge, but that was before she had seen the sky from the open doors of the Doctor's spaceship…now she thinks she might join them. There would never come a day where she didn't long to float amongst the stars again. "Really, 'm okay. It barely even hurts," the girl pleaded.

He brought her hand closer to his face with the barest touches and sighed stoically. "That's the adrenaline; it'll wear off." Dropping her hand and allowing frustration to seep into his voice he added, "And you aren't 'okay.' Those are first degree burns and your left hand was already useless to start with! I _told you_ to be careful! I said—"

"I was careful! I did what you said to do…how is it my fault that the console started sparking? You said it yourself, she's sick; she couldn't help it."

"Right—fine…okay," he huffed. "Let's just get you to your room and into bed before the adrenaline wears off. I still have that 'thing' to deal with and you've helped enough on this one." The blonde girl opened her mouth, probably to argue but was silenced by a commanding glance. "No. No arguments. I appreciate your help and I don't know how it would have worked if you hadn't been here but you can't do anymore and you know it. So let's go – let's get you sorted so I can go out there without worrying about the state of you so I can come back here, and we can hide out in the vortex for a few weeks while you heal."

It was clear he hadn't been asking for her approval during his rant. He turned on his heel and the blonde followed on her floating chair. She had just disappeared from Donna's view when a deafening alarm sounded; the Doctor reappeared seconds later, he rushed wide-eyed to the console.

Donna watched with her hands covering her ears as the alien proceeded to caper back and forth, pressing a multitude of buttons. She could feel it when the ship finally landed, as it seemed to give a great heave in effort before coming to a stop with a 'thud'. Smoke poured out from the central column and the Doctor – acknowledging her presence for the first time since she'd been shoved off him without ceremony – ordered her outside with a quick assurance that he would soon follow. As she spun quickly and made her way to the doors she caught sight of him running back down the hall where his injured 'friend' had disappeared to. 

##############################################################################

She had looking at the watch on her wrist, counting out the seconds ticking by when the doors to the impossible box opened and the Doctor stepped out gagging on smoke and brandishing a fire extinguisher.

He tossed it aside and made his way to her. "The funny thing is, for a spaceship, she doesn't really do that much flying. We'd better give her a couple of hours." He took his eyes off the view of South London and made a quick inspection of her. "You all right?"

Donna knew this strange alien honestly wanted to know. "Doesn't matter."

"Did we miss it?" The Spaceman frowned.

"Yeah."

"Well, you can book another date..."

"Course we can." She agreed.

"Still got the honeymoon..." He hedged.

She shook her head sadly, "It's just a holiday now."

"Yeah... yeah. Sorry…"

"It's not your fault." She mutters.

"Oh!" The Doctor starts happily, "That's a change."

"Wish we had a time machine. Then we could go back and get it right."

"...Yeah—yeah. But... even if I did, I couldn't go back on someone's personal timeline... Apparently."

She looks at him cynically for a moment before deciding he was mad, then she let her eyes drop to the ground with a sigh and veritably 'plopped' herself down on the building's ledge. After a moment she felt him drape his coat around her before again joining her.

"God, you're skinny. This wouldn't fit a rat!"

He doesn't make a reply, but shifts around a bit as he searches his pocket for something. "Oh, and you'd better put this on." He tells her when he finds what looks like a plain, white gold wedding band.

"Oh, do you have to rub it in?" She whines at him whilst he rolls his eyes.

"Those creatures can trace you. This is a bio-damper. Should keep you hidden…With this ring, I thee bio-damp."

"For better or for worse." She answers his cheek with cheek and he gives her a small smile.

Thinking it was time for a subject change she decides to ask him what the robot Santa's are for, but doesn't understand much of his explanation. Instead she latches onto his reference of 'last Christmas' and asks him, "What happened then?"

He looks at her in puzzlement before talking about spaceships over the skies, but she asserts her ignorance of the event, as she'd gone to sleep early with a hangover.

"I spent Christmas Day just over there, the Powell Estate. With this... family. My friend, she had this family. Well, they were...they were my family too, I suppose…Still... gone now."

"Your friend... who is she?" Donna couldn't help asking. Keeping her question vague in hopes he would tell her something, anything about who she was, what she was to him; clearly she had come from humble beginnings.

"Question is, what do camouflaged robot mercenaries want with you? And how did you get inside the TARDIS? I don't know... What's your job?" He asks, now fiddling with the metal thing in his hand.

She tried to hid her increasing frustration by answering his questions, "I'm a secretary," but the Martian seemed to have cornered the market on rude.

"It's weird, I mean - you're not special, you're not powerful, you're not connected, you're not clever, you're not important..."

"This friend of yours—has she ever punched you in the face?"

He paused his actions momentarily in real consideration. "No." He told her, "But her mother has slapped me on occasion."

"Stop bleeping me!" She whacks at the hand holding the device. She agrees to continue answering his questions, sans sonic.

Donna tells the Doctor about her job temping at HC Clements and the head of HR, now her fiancé, who had made her coffee six months ago—a bit early, maybe, but they'd had so much in common and she really felt like they'd connected.

She told him that HC Clements dealt in security systems, which she believed was just "a posh name for 'locksmiths;'" ignoring him when he muttered the word 'keys' she concluded, telling him it was time to make their way to the reception.

"Oh, this is gonna be so shaming," She told him. "You can do the explaining, Martian-boy."

"Yeah. I'm not from Mars."

She nods in indulgence, making no further comment about it as he helps her up and they begin their descent from the roof.

"Oh, I had this great big reception all planned. Everyone's gonna be heartbroken."

##############################################################################

The Doctor thought over the last hour of his life as he sat in the back seat of Lance's car on the way to HC Clements:

He pitied Donna greatly. If Rose had disappeared in a puff of golden dust as Donna had her family and friends would have searched frantically for her, beside themselves with fear for her wellbeing. Instead Donna's wedding guests had consoled themselves with the festivities of the wedding reception – minus the bride, as if that little tidbit hardly mattered.

The room had slowly silenced upon their walking into the reception hall; one last dancing couple – the would-be groom and a leggy blonde in a dress fit for clubbing – took just a moment longer than the rest of the congregation to spot the red head in the wedding dress, but eventually they too had gone quiet.

Moreover, instead of concern for her well-being the Doctor only noticed irritation and frustration from all the men and women who had gathered themselves around her to shout out in unison; the group stopped their assault only when Donna broke out into fake tears, then with the show over, her loved one's recommenced their frivolity just as they'd already been doing, plus one 'guest of honor'.

The Doctor found himself deviating from his careful study of the room in favor of thoughts of Rose more than once. This whole day had been a constant reminder of her: the Santa's, Christmas, the rooftop overlooking the estate she'd grown up on, the leggy blonde (Nerys, Donna had called her) casting him obvious glances like Madame de Pompadour had done on the day he'd made the stupidest decision of his life (the one time he had ever hurt Rose on purpose), another blonde being dipped by her partner like Rose looked when she had fallen into his arms on New Earth when Cassandra left her mind.

But the ultimate reminder, the gold dust which had gathered and swirled up around Donna before picking her up and carrying her away – presumably to the TARDIS – were huon particles, which no longer exist – except in the heart of his TARDIS and… dormant, inside Rose.

_'Which would explain why the old isn't feeling well.'_

And of course the cause of Donna's materialization in the console room was one which couldn't be hid with a bio damper – because wasn't that just his luck?

He'd warned Donna but it had been too late to make an escape; together they'd tried to warn her family, but both had been dismissed – the Doctor as some strange nutter and Donna because as the Doctor had come to realize throughout the reception, the brass woman was entirely used to being ignored and cast aside.

Making quick use of the sound system set up by the DJ the Doctor pulled out his sonic screwdriver and switched it to the right setting. Taking the microphone in one head and bringing it to his mouth, his sonic still poised in the other, the Doctor announced in a flare for theatrics indicative of this body. "Oi! Santa! Word of advice: if you're attacking a man with a sonic screwdriver... don't let him near the sound system."

The shrill peel of sound waves being broadcast through a live mic reverberated throughout the room. People stopped and grabbed their ears and the ears of their children, meanwhile the Santa's, trees, and baubles deactivated, falling to the floor with quiet 'thunks' which were lost in the din.

Donna's family had erupted immediately into confusion and agitation. Surprisingly, Donna had remained solely apart from the distress of her family; she checked on the children and roused the adults into doing the same, making sure no one had been seriously hurt in the onslaught.

The Doctor kept his distance from this fretting as he tried to analyze the robots and trace back the signal, explaining to Donna when she attempted to engage his help that there was now more at stake here than a few blown ear drums or twisted ankles.

He'd run outside, Donna on his tail and Lance and her mum on hers, and had located the source of the signal up in the sky for a few seconds, before it had been turned off… _'And that is how I'd landed myself here,' _ the Doctor thought, pouting at the seat in front of him as he was driven to Donna's place of employment.

He couldn't help thinking, with his knees wedged so tightly in the back that he'd had to pull them into his chest (and still they were pushing up against the seat in front of him), that he would so much rather be with Rose right now.

Instead he thought hopefully ahead to the conclusion of this mystery—to the moment when he could go back to his TARDIS and settle comfortably into the plush grey chair beside Rose's bed, and catch up on his sleep.

**To be continued…**


	5. Draining the Thames

**Author's Note: As always, this is unbeta'd, so I do apologize for any mistakes. Thank-you to all of my followers, you're all awesome! I can't wait to hear your responses to this one! -AMouse**

The Doctor had forced his way out of the tiny car the moment Lance had come to a full stop outside of the building; he'd begun stretching his knees and legs while he'd waited patiently for Lance and Donna to sidle up to him. "This might just be a locksmith's, but HC Clements was brought up twenty three years ago by the Torchwood Institute."

"Who are they?" Donna asked.

"They were behind the battle of Canary Wharf," the Doctor told her darkly. He thought he saw a spark of recognition in her eye but they'd gone blank now and she was lookin at him in confused silence.

"…Cyberman invasion… Skies over London full of Daleks?"

"Oh," she exclaims, he sighs in relief '_finally'_. "I was in Spain."

"They had Cybermen in Spain," he pointed out.

"Scuba diving."

'_For three months?!'_ He'd almost asked her before thinking better of it. "That big picture, Donna – you keep on missing it."

He starts darting from one computer to the next, whacking the monitor with an open palm,_ 'percussion maintenance,'_ he'd always told Rose.

"Torchwood was destroyed, but H C Clements stayed in business. I think... someone else came in and took over the operation."

"But what do they want with me?" Donna asked worriedly.

"Somehow you've been dosed with Huon energy. And that's a problem because Huon energy hasn't existed since the Dark times. The only place you'd find a Huon particle now is a remnant in the heart of the TARDIS (_'And in Rose'_). See? That's what happened. Say... that's the TARDIS—," the Doctor indicated an empty mug. "And that's you—," he picks up a pencil from the desk. "The particles inside you activated. The two sets of particles magnetized and WHAP! You were pulled inside the TARDIS," he concludes by tossing the pencil into the mug and swishing it around a bit.

"I'm a pencil inside a mug?"

The Doctor nodded in agreement. "Yes, you are. 4H. Sums you up. Lance? What was H C Clements working on? Anything top secret? Special operations? Do not enter?"

"I don't know!" Lance snaps defensively. The Doctor goes back to his investigation immediately, fiddling with his sonic screwdriver and paying little mind to anything else Lance says. "I'm in charge of personnel. I wasn't project manager. Why am I even explaining myself? What the hell are we talking about?"

"They make keys, that's the point. And look at this..." he gestures toward the screen where he's just brought a 3D layout of the building up on the monitor. "We're on the third floor."

Both bride and groom nod in acknowledgment, waiting for the point. "Underneath reception, there's a basement, yes? Then how come when you look on the lift, there's a button marked 'lower basement'? There's a whole floor which doesn't exist on the official plans. So what's down there, then?"

"Are you telling me this building's got a secret floor?" Lance was eyeing the Doctor as if he thought him insane.

"No," the Doctor replied in a drawling tone. "I'm showing you this building's got a secret floor."

"It needs a key." Donna pointed out.

"I don't!" He chirped happily, quickly sonicing the lock. "Right then, thanks you two, I can handle this… see you later."

"No chance, Martian. You're the man who keeps saving my life, I ain't letting you out of my sight."

The Doctor makes no argument. He's come to like the slap-happy ginger woman. Plus Rose isn't here to help him on this one; Donna Noble may need a little enlightenment on what goes on in the world around her, but in a moment of crisis she doesn't freeze up – it's an invaluable trait really. He smiles at her when she joins him by his side in the lift.

"Going down," he says.

"Lance?" Donna snaps.

"Maybe I should go to the police," he says hesitantly, making no move to join the other two in the elevator.

"Inside," she orders. His shoulders slump in defeat as he takes his place on the lift.

"To honor and obey?" The Doctor quips.

"Tell me about it, mate," he sighs.

"OI."

##############################################################################

"Where are we," she asked when they'd reached the secret basement. "Well, what goes on down here?"

Donna did not much like the look of the place. A long cement corridor continued so far in the distance that direction Donna could not see the end of it. What she could see was dank. There wasn't a picture or wall ornament to be seen, making the smallest noise ricochet off the walls, and she imagined the noise echoing for kilometers down the hall.

"Let's find out..." suggested the Doctor.

"Do you think Mr. Clements knows about this place?" She half whispered, not really seeing the point since the acoustics in this narrow room could pick up a pin drop.

"The mysterious HC Clements? I think he's part of it. Oh, look!" His eyes lit up in enthusiasm. "Transport."

Sequestered to the side of the room were four electric scooters, one of which they each commandeered. Still in her wedding gown and heels, Donna couldn't quantify her relief at not having to walk to the end of the long tunnel. Donna could only hope that the Spaceman wasn't relying too heavily on the element of surprise, because she couldn't hope to contain the nearly hysterical giggling bubbling up from her chest.

She had initially managed rather well, she thought. It was undoubtedly amusing for all of them to be riding scooters to the potentially dangerous situation. It wasn't until she had caught a quick glimpse at the Doctor's face that her resolve had crumbled. He'd been looking directly ahead, intense eyes, mouth set in a frown…on a Segway.

She looked down at her feet, trying to reign in her chuckling, when she remembered how she herself was dressed. She was a bride… _on a Segway_! Imagining how ridiculous the three of them must have looked, Donna broke into guffaws of laughter.

The Doctor spared her a quick questioningly glance and in a moment his inquisitive gaze meets hers, his face blooms into a full, toothy smile and then he is laughing too, both of them only becoming louder when Lance clearly doesn't understand why it's all so funny.

##############################################################################

When they come to a door with a large "T" and the words, "Torchwood – Authorized personnel only," the three abandon their scooters.

The Doctor immediately starts turning the wheel to open the door, behind which it a ladder.

"Wait here," he tells Donna and Lance. "Just need to get my bearings. Don't…do anything." He gives the woman a stern look, not trusting her by herself for long since in the short time he'd known her she had proven herself a strong competitor for Rose's 'jeopardy friendly' title.

He starts his climb up the ladder.

"You'd better come back," she calls up.

He chuckles softly. "I couldn't get rid of you if I tried."

When he reaches the apex of his climb the Doctor finds himself looking at the underside of a manhole; he opens it easily and climbs out into broad daylight, overlooking the Thames Flood barrier. Having satisfied his curiosity he begins his downward trek to relay his information and he and Donna marvel at the novelty of having a secret base hidden underneath a major landmark_._

When the next room they enter is a well-stocked lab, the Doctor is all excitement. "Oh, look at this! Stunning! Particle extrusion," he enthuses as he toys with some of the equipment.

"What does it do," asks Donna.

"Particle extrusion. Hold on..." he trails off in his explanation when a set of bubbling tubes catches his eye. He runs over to them and starts tapping one. "Brilliant. They've been manufacturing Huon particles. In case, my people got rid of Huons, they unraveled the atomic structure."

Lance's head shot up in sudden attention. "Your people? Who are they? What company do you represent?"

"Oh, I'm a… freelancer," he tells Lance after a moment of floundering. Rose had once said the very same thing to a con-artist-turned-hero; her delivery had been better, but he didn't waste time focusing on it. "But this lot are rebuilding them. They've been using the river! Extruding them through a flat hydrogen base so they've got the end result—Huon particles in liquid form," he ends his lesson by picking up and shaking a small test tube full of the particles.

He carefully masks his face, he doesn't want to worry Donna; he doesn't think Lance would care much either way if he told them how much danger the woman was really in.

"And that's what's inside me," she pushed.

In answer, The Doctor turns a knob on the test tube, making the contents, and the bride, glow.

"Oh, my God," she panted in fear.

"Because the particles are inert - they need something living to catalyze inside and that's you. Saturate the body and then... HA!—The wedding! Yes, you're getting married, that's it! Best day of your life, walking down the aisle—oh, your body's a battleground! There's a chemical war inside! Adrenaline, acetylcholine, WHAM! go the endorphins, oh you're cooking! Yeah, you're like a walking oven! A pressure cooker, a microwave, all churning away, the particles reach boiling point, SHAZAM!—" His head is snapped to the side from the force of her slap. _'Still not as bad as Jackie.'_

He was monumentally thankful now that Rose was not with him on this one. Seeing these huon particles, knowing they were active inside Donna just reminded him how precarious Rose's own situation was. More so than he'd realized. One a daily basis the human body synthesizes dozens of chemicals to keep it preforming at its healthiest. Unlike the body of a Time Lord or many of the other alien species that existed during the dark ages humans can't consciously control the chemicals their bodies produce.

He spends all of his time with her—he knows her…it's so easy to forget sometimes that's she's an alien.

The huon particles which had catalyzed within Donna's human body so easily were not half the number of the particles still inert inside Rose. Any one of the number of adventures since she'd essentially swallowed the time vortex could have been the one to spark the chemical reaction in her body that would catalyze the particles. Any intense burst of adrenaline or serotonin, or estrogen, any number of things could finally push her over the ledge she's balanced on. The huon particles would activate; he would lose her.

But to Donna he gave an annoyed, "What did I do this time?"

"Are you enjoying this?!" She snapped at him with quite a bit of animosity. His tense shoulders relaxed in apology. He hadn't been enjoying it at all, in fact. What she'd apparently interpreted as excitement had mostly been panic; he didn't tell her that though. No need to mention how much danger she was in – or that his loss of composure had stemmed primarily from his worry for another person entirely…

She stepped up to him again, her hands held out in supplication, "Right, just tell me—these particles, are they dangerous? Am I safe?"

"Yes," he says, too quickly.

"Doctor... if your lot got rid of Huon particles... why'd they do that?"

"Because they were deadly," he tells her.

"Oh, my God..." her voice is barely a whisper.

"I'll sort it out, Donna. Whatever's been done to you, I'll reverse it. I'm not about to lose someone else."

Their conversation is interrupted then by a female voice, speaking through a comm-link. At the same time tremors shake the floor beneath the trio's feet, a trap door in the center of the expansive room opens up to a cavernous hole.

His eyes glassy in terror, Lance made a quick, inconspicuous retreat from the room. He'd no sooner disappeared around a corner than black-hooded Santa robots piled into the room, and lined the walls.

The Doctor kept his face carefully blank. "How far down does it go?" he asked the voice, nodding at the hole. It had been excavated using a laser drill, he realized as he studied it. When the owner of the voice informed him it reached Earth's center he made no effort to hide his intrigue.

The Doctor was momentarily diverted by Donna's suggestion that there were dinosaurs at the center of the Earth. After a round of witty banter with her, instigated by her inability to make plausible suggestions with regards to the purpose of a hole carved out to Earth's core, the Doctor once again addressed the mysterious female, coaxing her out from the relative safety of her spaceship and into their presence.

"Who are you with such command," the owner of the voice wanted to know.

"I'm the Doctor."

"Prepare your best medicines, doctor-man, for you will be sick at heart."

Suddenly, standing before the Doctor and Donna stood a giant spider. At least ten feet tall, her eight legs and upper body was a deep scarlet, her underbelly was coal black – the alien hissed, displaying a set of sharp, pearly fangs.

Beside him, Donna let out a disgusted shriek even as he remained fixated on the creature.

"The Racnoss... but that's impossible, you're one of the Racnoss!"

"Empress," she called herself. But it's impossible, and the Doctor says as much – unless – "Are you the only one?" He asks.

"Such a sharp mind," compliments the Empress. The Doctor's eyes soften slightly; he is all too familiar with the devastation that comes with knowing one is the last of their kind.

"The Racnoss," he said, turning to Donna. "Come from the Dark Times, billions of years ago, billions. They were carnivores, omnivores, they devoured whole planets."

"Racnoss are born starving, is that our fault?"

"They eat people?" Donna's voice raised an octave.

Instead of answering her directly, the Doctor asks an obscure question about her bosses shoes, pointing in the direction of the ceiling when she answers in the affirmative, indicating a large web, where the unmoving ankles and shoes of HC Clements could just been seen sticking out from the rest of the tangled mass.

"Oh, my God," she gasps.

Her pale face whitens even further when the Empress confirms the long dead man as her "Christmas dinner," with an exaggerated 'Mm," and a boisterous cackle.

"You shouldn't even exist! Way back in history, the Fledgling Empires went to war against the Racnoss – they were wiped out."

"Except for me," claims the Empress.

Lance appears on the balcony above the Empress, axe held aloft. He motions Donna to keep quiet as he makes his way to the Racnoss, weapon at the ready. Donna attempts to keep the Empress's attention averted from Lance, yelling bitingly at the alien until her fiancé is right beside it and swinging the axe in a wide arc through the air – at the last moment the Empress turns to him and hisses – and he halts the axe's trajectory, both he and the Empress begin to laugh.

"That was a good one," he says to the Empress in between laughs. "Your face!"

"Lance is funny," she agrees.

Watching the proceeding from her place on the floor, Donna Noble lets out a confused "What?"

"I'm sorry," the Doctor whispers, his sad eyes glued to her face.

"Sorry for what? Lance, don't be so stupid! Get her!" Donna cries.

"God, she's thick," Lance tells the Empress, all the while locking eyes with Donna, his full of false pity, hers full of confusion. "Months I had to put up with her. _Months._ A woman who can't even point to Germany on a map."

"I don't understand," said Donna in a small voice. Still, she'd reacted to the growing resentment in his voice, flinched at his insult – there was still a small, defiant part of her that wanted to snap back that of course she could point to Germany on a map, but she remained quiet.

"How did you meet him?" The Doctor's voice was surprisingly gentle.

"In the office," she told him.

He nods his head. "He made you coffee."

It takes her a few moments to realize what the Doctor is saying to her, but realization comes, and Donna's heart hits the floor. "What?!"

"Every day," Lance cooed at her, slowly as if to an idiot. "I made you coffee."

The Doctor was studying Lance scathingly. "You had to be dosed with liquid particles over six months."

"He was poisoning me?" Lance had admitted it himself, but she wasn't ready to believe it, she wanted all of this to be some terrible joke.

"It was all there in the job title—the Head of Human Resources," the Doctor bit out.

"This time, it's personnel," Lance joked, he and the Racnoss broke into another round of laughter. The Doctor curled his lip in disgust.

"But," started Donna. "We were getting married."

"Well, I couldn't risk you running off. I had to say yes. And then I was stuck with a woman who thinks the height of excitement is a new flavor Pringle. Oh, I had to sit there and listen to all that 'yap yap yap'-"Oh, Brad and Angelina—Is Posh pregnant?" X Factor, Atkins Diet, Feng Shui, split ends, text me, text me, text me. Dear God, the never ending fountain of fat, stupid trivia," Lance's demeanor grew increasingly vile as he continued, oblivious, or perhaps altogether unconcerned with the growing hurt and confusion on Donna's face. After taking a moment to let his true opinion of her sink in, he looked down at her and in a moderate tone, told her, "I deserve a medal."

"Oh, is that what she's offered you? The Empress of the Racnoss? What are you? Her consort?"

"It's better than a night with her," Lance defended. The Doctor's face screwed up in revulsion. The idea that this ape thought Donna so dreadful he'd maliciously betray and hurt her is terrible…the idea that Lance might really rather a night as the consort of a giant spider over a night with a woman who loves him is pretty bad too.

"But I love you," Donna says despondently.

"That's what made it easy," he sneered at her. "It's like you said, Doctor—the big picture—what's the point of it all if the Human Race is nothing? That's what the Empress can give me. The chance to... go out there, to see it. The size of it all. I think you understand that, don't you, Doctor?"

Now the Empress's interest had left Donna and she'd focused on the Doctor. He allowed Lance and the Empress to believe he was a Martian for the time being, figuring it would better his chances of having his questions answered. Unfortunately for the Doctor, neither the Racnoss nor Lance was the typical megalomaniacal supervillain, and neither would reveal to him what lay at the center of the Earth.

In fact, it seemed his curiosity had only brought into question his usefulness to them – none, it seemed – the Empress ordered his death.

The Doctor was about to begin what would surely have been a very wordy explanation of why he was far more useful alive when Donna jumped in front of him, her arms spread wide. "Don't you hurt him," she yelled at the Racnoss and her ex-fiancé.

"No, no, it's all right," the Doctor warned her gently.

She looked over her shoulder at him and he saw the fear and determination mixed in her eyes. She reminded him in that moment of another scared human. A nineteen-year-old shop girl, shaking uncontrollably even as she disengaged herself from the grip of her even more terrified boyfriend; swinging herself from a rusty chain to save a complete stranger, and the rest of the world. "No, I won't let them!" Donna yelled.

"At arms!" The Empress commanded. The robots readied their weapons, aiming them in the direction of the Doctor and the still unmoved Donna. 

"Ah, now. Except," says the Doctor.

The Empress ignores him. "Take aim!"

"Well, I just want to point out the obvious—"

"They won't hit the bride," the Empress interrupts. "They're such very good shots."

"Just—just—just—hold on, just a tick, just a tiny, just a little—tick. If you think about it, the particles activated in Donna and drew her inside my spaceship. So, reverse it... the spaceship comes to her," the Doctor's lecture comes to an end. In one swift succession he's fiddled with the tube of huon particles and both it and Donna have begun to glow. The TARDIS materializes even as the Empress yells "Fire!" The robot's bullets ricochet harmlessly off the wood of the police box as it solidifies around them.

"Off we go," cheers the Doctor as he darts to the console and pilots them away from the furious Racnoss.

Down the hall of the TARDIS and behind a set of solid cherry double doors, Rose Tyler sleeps soundly in her bed. Pale pink comforter and cream sheets blanketed around her, her blonde hair spilling out over pillows of the same pale color; no one but the TARDIS is present to notice the liquid gold seeping out from under her closed eye lids, or the dull golden sheen of her skin as the particles in her own body respond to the Doctor's fiddling with the test tube – and the TARDIS isn't telling.

##############################################################################

Safe in the TARDIS for the time being, the Doctor admits he'd lied about his spaceship. "Oh, you know what I said before about time machines? Well, I lied. And now we're gonna use it. We need to find out what the Empress of the Racnoss is digging up. If something's buried at the planet core, it must've been there since the beginning. That's just brilliant. Molto bene! I've always wanted to see this. Donna—we're going further back than I've ever been before."

In his exuberance, it took the Doctor until well after the conclusion of his speech to notice that his companion wasn't sharing in his excitement. On the other side of the room Donna Noble's shoulders were hunched and shaking, tears were running down her cheeks as she cried in silence.

For the second time, the Doctor was struck with the thought that this woman would make an exceptional companion. Donna Noble stood between a stranger and robots of guns. She kept her head when the rest of her family was frantic with terror, and faced with the fact that the man she loved had not only never loved her, but had resented and despised her—poisoned her even—Donna Noble had held back her tears in graceful pride; and only now that she was away from the source of her pain did she allow quiet tears to catch up to her.

He felt a deep connection to this woman whom he'd known for such a short period of time—one he couldn't explain. It was similar in strength, though not in essence to his connection with Rose. The Doctor felt a kinship with the redhead, already he was becoming familiar with her mind's unique buzzing of emotions on the periphery of his own.

Eventually the Doctor focuses back on piloting the old girl to their destination, respectfully turning away from Donna to give her as much privacy as could be afforded. Soon after he'd turned away he heard the shuffling of her dress and the scratch of fabric against fabric as she moved closer to him and sat herself on the jump seat.

When the TARDIS reached the coordinates he'd set he turned around to find a still morose, but more composed woman. "We've arrived... want to see?"

"I s'pose," she mutters.

The Doctor swivels around the monitor for them to view, but on the screen the universe looks small. He tells her so – hoping to cheer her up and distract her from her troubles the best way he knows how – tells her he thinks her way is best. He walks over to the TARDIS doors and waits for her there. "No human's ever seen this. You'll be the first."

"All I want to see is my bed," she says, but it's a lie and she moves to join him at the door. 

"Donna Noble. Welcome to the creation of the Earth," he opens the doors with a swivel and Donna's mouth falls open at the sight.

Seeing from Donna's perspective makes the canvas before him newly beautiful. He narrates for her, so she can see what he sees too.

"We've gone back 4.6 billion years. There's no solar system, not yet. Only dust and rocks and gas. That's the Sun over there, brand new. Just beginning to burn."

"Where's the Earth?" Her voice is almost reverent.

"All around us... in the dust," he says. They both look around at the rocks and the dust. The macroscopic and microscopic particles that will one day fuse together to become Sol 3, or Earth. One day life will thrive on that planet, war will rage, and history will be made; and born from this dust, billions of years from now will be a fiery red head—she'll grow up and meet a mad man with a box and he will take her back in time to see the building blocks of her own creation.

"Puts the wedding in perspective. Lance was right. We're just... tiny."

"No, but that's what you do," the Doctor assures her genuinely. "The human race. Making sense out of chaos. Marking it out with weddings and Christmas and calendars. This whole process is beautiful," and it is, he thinks. His hand itches for Rose's; this is the kind of sight that would leave her speechless, but this beauty is fleeting and it never comes again. She does beautiful things every day, her whole species does. They decorate their entire planet every year in celebration – put twinkle lights on their trees, their homes, wrap garland around their porches. They sing songs and celebrate, and they take the time to remember their loved ones and be thankful for them. The dust before him wouldn't be half as spellbinding if he didn't know what creatures rose up from it. "But only if it's being observed."

"So, I came out of all this," Donna asks.

"Isn't that brilliant?"

She seems to be at a loss for words. 'It's so brilliant'—'it's so daunting'. "I think that's the Isle of Wight," she jokes instead, and they laugh.

"Eventually," the Doctor begins to tell her once the ensuing silence had grown too thick. "Gravity takes hold. Say, one big rock, heavier than the others, starts to pull other rocks towards it. All the dust and gas and elements get pulled in, everything, piling in until you get the..."

"Earth."

"But the question is... what was that first rock?"

##############################################################################

Donna spots it first, navigating its way through the debris that will become the earth. A Racnoss ship. As she looks on, the particles of gas and dust begin to gravitate toward the Racnoss, drawing closer to it and fusing together—exactly as the Doctor predicted. They didn't bury something there, he told her, they hid themselves from the war; they became the first rock.

Suddenly the TARDIS gives a violent jolt, both Donna and the Doctor are just spared being knocked to the floor.

"What was that," Donna asks him.

"Trouble," he slams the door shut as the TARDIS continues to jostle them.

"Remember that little trick I pulled," he tells her when she wants to know what's happening. "—particles pulling particles. It works in reverse—they're pulling us back!"

"Well, can't you stop it? Hasn't it got a handbrake? Can't you reverse or warp or beam or something?"

"Backseat driver. Oh! Wait a minute," he pulls out a piece of metal from underneath the console. "The extrapolator! Can't stop us, but it should give us a good bump!"

They land with a thud about 200 yards to the right and they take off in the direction of the Thames flood barrier entrance. Out of breath and frightened, Donna isn't too happy to hear he's making the plan up as he goes, but doesn't push the matter, instead asking him why it was necessary to poison her with huon particles in the first place.

Unfortunately before the Doctor can finish explaining it to her, she's grabbed from behind by a robot. It covers her mouth with its hand and drags her away as she struggles – the Doctor's continued explanation getting lost as the distance between them grows.

##############################################################################

He isn't sure exactly how long she'd been gone before he'd realized it… he does know he needs to get his gob under control. He'd already had an inkling of where she'd been taken, so when he heard her scream Lance's name he'd been close by. He put on an extra burst of speed.

Lance was nowhere in sight, and Donna was tied in the Racnoss web on the ceiling, positioned directly over the hole in the Earth—it wasn't hard to conclude that he'd fallen.

His robot disguise hadn't fooled the Empress, but he hadn't really thought it would. Pulling out his sonic screwdriver he aimed it at the webbing holding Donna in place and strategically weakened it.

"I'm gonna fall," Donna screeched as the webbing fell away from her body slightly. The individual stands continued to snap as her body weighed them down.

"You're gonna swing," he told her.

No sooner had he gotten the words out than the web gave way and Donna, holding tight to the remaining strands, swung over the hole in the direction of the Doctor's outstretched arms.

"I've got ya," he assures her. She missed his arms entirely and swung into the wall directly under him. "...Oh. Sorry."

"Thanks for nothing," she snaps at him from where her body had sprawled out on the floor.

"The doctor-man amuses me," the Empress chuckled.

The Doctor was not amused, however. He hadn't seen Donna hit the wall with a light 'thunk' and then slide down the web to the floor. He'd seen Rose pounded into the wall with enough force to shatter half of her body. He'd seen her drop like dead weight to the ground and heard her whimpering in pain for ten full minutes before she finally gave up the fight to remain conscious. He'd seen her try and fail to lift her head and look him in the eye before her eyes had closed, when she'd stopped whimpered and forced out a barely comprehensible "it'll be okay." He'd thought she'd been saying good-bye.

All day he'd been reminded of Rose and the fact that she wasn't at his side. He'd been at intervals thankful and despondent. Now he was furious. Rose was lying alone and injured in her bed on the TARDIS and he wanted to be there. She needed him there. Instead he was here with a heartbroken red-head who'd just seen her cruel fiancé fall to his death, and a monstrous alien who found amusement in inflicting pain upon others. For just a moment he wanted her to understand that pain…but he was the Doctor. He would give her a chance. Otherwise, how could he ever face Rose when this was over.

"Empress of the Racnoss—I give you one last chance. I can find you a planet. I can find you a place in the universe to coexist. Take that offer and end this now."

"These men are so funny," she laughed.

The Doctor wanted to be a good man—he knew how this would end, but even hating the sadistic creature as he did, he found no pleasure in the path before him. "What's your answer?"

"Oh, I'm afraid I have to decline," the Empress cackles.

"What happens next is your own doing," he says softly; he doesn't know who he's talking to—the Empress or himself.

Using a remote he'd pulled from his trans-dimensional coat pockets he deactivates the Empress's robot army. They stop in their tracks and their limbs go limp.

"Robo-forms are not necessary," hisses the Empress. "My children may feast on Martian flesh."

"Oh, but I'm not from Mars."

"Then where?"

"My home planet is far away and long-since gone. But its name lives on. Gallifrey."

The Empress hisses and rears back in anger and fear. "They murdered the Racnoss!"

"I warned you. You did this," he tells her. From his pocket he pulls out a fist full of baubles, throwing them into the air as the Empress screams, "No! No! Don't! No!"

They scatter in different directions, some circling the Empress, some colliding with wall and pipes, causing tiny explosions that allow water to rush into the room. The rush of water from the Thames quickly escalates into a flood and the Racnoss Empress watches on, wailing as water pours into the chamber and down the hole, drowning her children.

The Doctor watches on in stoic silence. He saw no alternative; the Empress would not leave peacefully and he could not save the human race if the Racnoss survived. So he forces himself to watch the destruction he's caused. The infant Racnoss had died innocents, and even knowing that left alive they wouldn't have remained so did nothing to help his hatred of himself in that moment. He almost felt as if the water soaking his hair and clothes, running down his face and arms, and dripping off his fingers could be blood and looking down, he nearly gagged when the liquid turned out to be water after all—his hands were clean—the notion that his hands could ever be clean was so ridiculous it was disgusting to him.

His senses filled with the mournful sobs of the Racnoss crying, "My children, my children…" She was truly the last of her kind now; she had witnessed the slaughter of the last of her kind – her own children.

Somewhere below him Donna was telling him he could stop. Didn't she understand? He could never stop, no matter how much he may want to. It was his burden for the rest of time to keep the universe in balance. He saved entire civilizations but with every victory it seemed he further damaged himself.

His only respite from the never-ending responsibility was the woman waiting for him at home. He belonged to her almost as much as he belonged to the universe and while she could never be his, he would never not return to her.

"Come on," he yelled at Donna over the rushing water. "Time I got you out!"

Matching their strides, they ran together up the stairs. Behind them the Empress had transported back to her ship. The remaining huon energy was gone and she was defenseless, by the time the Doctor and Donna have climbed up the ladder and made it to the surface, the Racnoss ship had been shot out of the sky.

"Just... there's one problem," Donna tells him, all seriousness.

"What's that," the Doctor wonders in concern.

"We've drained the Thames," she exclaims. After a moment they both burst into slightly hysterical laughter. Once they've calmed down they make their way back to the TARDIS and the Doctor begins piloting Donna home.

##############################################################################

The TARDIS materializes right across the road from Donna's home. She and the Doctor step out onto the street and he gives the old girl's wood a loving pat.

"There we go. Told you she'd be all right. She can survive anything."

"More than I've done," she mutters. The Doctor gives her a cursory scan with his sonic before giving her a clean bill of health. No more huon particles; no damage from temporarily hosting them.

"Yeah, but apart from that," she tells him. "I missed my wedding, lost my job and became a widow on the same day… Sort of."

"I couldn't save him," he apologizes.

"He deserved it," she says emotionlessly. Her face deflates in sadness when the Doctor raises an eyebrow at her. "No, he didn't."

She looks back at her house, from the window her parents could be seen, embracing each other. "I'd better get inside. They'll be worried."

"Best Christmas present they could have—Oh, no, I forgot—you hate Christmas."

"Yes, I do."

He smiles cheerily. "Even if it snows?"

Reaching a hand into the TARDIS and tweaking with a few buttons, a spray of water vapor erupts like a geyser from the top of the TARDIS, expanding into the atmosphere. Almost immediately snowflakes begin to float down lazily from the sky.

He watches Donna tilt her head face to the sky in wonder. "I can't believe you did that!"

"Oh, basic atmospheric excitation," he says with false modesty.

When she looks back at him he's grinning widely at her. She returns his smile. "Merry Christmas," she says.

"And you. So... what will you do with yourself now?"

"Not getting married for starters. And I'm not gonna temp anymore. I dunno—travel. See a bit more of planet Earth. Walk in the dust. Just... go out there and do something."

"Well, you could always..." he trails off. He never knows why, just who—and he'd love for her to come with him. Admittedly, he realizes this may not be the best time to ask. Donna has just had a major shock, Rose is hurt and still weeks away from recovery. _'But if not now, when?'_

"What," she asks him.

"Come with me?"

She smiles at him but shakes her head. "No."

"Okay," he replies too quickly. He'd been expecting it, but he'd be lying to himself if he said it hadn't stung.

"I can't..."

"No, that's fine," he shrugs.

"No, but really—everything we did today... do you live your life like that?"

"...Not all the time." They both know he's lying, and not very well.

"I think you do. And I couldn't."

"But you've seen it out there. It's beautiful!"

"And it's terrible. That place was flooding and burning and they were dying and you were stood there like... I don't know... a stranger," he didn't feel as though he was being judged by her. Perhaps she'd known he'd had no choice; perhaps she'd seen the anguish his actions had caused him. She wasn't telling him this to add to his guilt, and that just made it all the worse. "And then you made it snow—I mean, you scare me to death!"

He was speechless for a time. "…Well then."

"Tell you what I will do though—Christmas dinner… Oh, come on."

"I don't do that sort of thing," he told her.

"You did it last year, you said so. And you might as well because Mum always cooks enough for twenty."

"Oh, all right then. But you go first, better warn them. And... don't say I'm a Martian," he motions to the TARDIS. "I just have to check on my friend and park her properly, she might drift off to the Middle Ages. I'll see you in a minute."

He closes the TARDIS door and he's just about to dematerialize her when Donna shouts his name. "Blimey, you can shout," he tells her with his head stuck out the door.

"Am I ever gonna see you again?"

He smiles widely at her and finds that he truly hopes so. "If I'm lucky."

"Just… promise me one thing… hold on that friend of yours."

Her request confuses him, he tips his head to the side. "Why?"

"Because you need someone. Because sometimes, I think you need someone to stop you."

"Yeah," he says.

He knows he owes his life to Donna tonight, but she was only half right. It had been the promise of Rose Tyler waiting for him that had finally triggered his survival instincts. He needs more than just any someone to stop him.

A heavy silence had fallen over the duo whilst the Doctor had been immersed in his thoughts. "Thanks then, Donna—good luck. And just... be magnificent."

She smiles at him, gives a happy laugh. "I think I will, yeah."

With a parting smile he retreats back into the TARDIS. She calls his name again before he's taken so much as a single a step away from the door.

"Oh, what is it now," he feigns exasperation.

"That friend of yours... what's her name?"

His throat feels heavy suddenly. He hadn't even realized it but through the entire day he'd never once said her name aloud.

"Her name is Rose."

##############################################################################

He closes the door for the last time, instead of dematerializing her, he sends the old girl shooting straight into the air like a rocket; one more thing for Donna to remember him by. Once he's high in the sky he sends the old girl into the Vortex to recover.

He stumbles down the hallway to the kitchen and grabs the last three bananas, eating them on the way to his bedroom and tossing the peels thoughtlessly onto the grating in turn, as he finishes them.

In his room he shucks off his sopping wet suit and hops in the shower for a quick rinse off. He puts on Howard's jim jam bottoms, a white vest shirt and navy cardigan, before slipping his feet in to the banana slippers Rose had gotten him last year as a late Christmas present. He leaves the door to his bedroom ajar behind him as he crosses the corridor to where the cherry oak doors of Rose's room had always been, since the night Adam had come aboard.

Giving the door a single knock, he waited five seconds for a response and then turned the knob and walked right in.

She was still asleep, her vitals were strong and she had more color in her cheeks than when he'd seen her last. He scanned her with his screwdriver but the results told him nothing he hadn't already ascertained from the machines monitoring her.

Satisfied for the time being, he sat down in the plush grey chair next her bed, shimmied around a bit until he'd made himself comfortable, and propped his banana-encased feet up on the edge of her bed, right next to hers.

By the time his damp hair hit the head rest, he was already asleep.


	6. It Started with a Book

**Author's Note: As always, I don't own Doctor Who and this chapter is unbeta'd. Please let me know what you think! :) –AMouse**

**##############################################################################**

In the weeks that followed Rose and the Doctor spent a great deal of time doing very little of anything. Rose was on mandatory bed rest – and she rested a lot – so when she was awake, the Doctor would make sure he was always there with something to keep them entertained.

They spent hours playing board games: Monopoly, poker, Cards Against Humanity – the Doctor found that while Rose quickly became bored with strategy games, she excelled at anything which required the use of creativity or memory, and though he was loath to admit it, her poker face was much better than his.

When the Doctor had grown tired of losing poker, he'd had the TARDIS convert one of her bedroom walls into a hologram screen, and the two had cozied up in her bed and his chair, their feet intersecting at the ankle on the end of the bed, and they'd watched dozens of movies.

One night Rose had woken up without the Doctor there; this wasn't wholly unusual. However, when ten minutes had passed and he still hadn't come sauntering in with his usual single knock, wait five seconds, open the door, she'd grown concerned. The Doctor always knew when Rose was awake – she suspected the old girl kept him informed.

"Where's your pilot, hm," she asked the TARDIS, giving the coral near her headboard a little caress.

She got a reassuring hum in response, followed by a mental picture of the Doctor tinkering in his workshop. Scattered around him were strips of metal, something that looked like a fancy welding iron, and in the corner of the room behind the Doctor's bench was a toaster graveyard that was at least three feet high.

"You're right, don't bother him girl – think he deserves a moment to himself."

The TARDIS hummed again in affection and a book appeared on her nightstand.

It was Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone.

The Harry Potter books were Rose's very favorite. Long before she'd run away with a mad alien in a sentient time machine she'd escaped into the pages of the Wizarding World. Growing up on the estates wasn't an easy thing to do, even if you were smart and had loving parents.

An estate kid learned early in life how to get by and whom to avoid. Rose had never been smart but she did have a loving mum, and she'd been lucky. She'd stayed away from the gangs and drugs, and apart from her time with Jimmy Stone when she'd dropped out of school and ended up in debt, she'd never let that part of estate life touch her – she'd wanted more.

It was during her time with Jimmy that she's first picked this book up. There was no television in the bedsit they were living in and Jimmy always got home from band practice late, with the stench of alcohol permeating his skin and clothes.

##############################################################################

Rose had been walking home slowly after her day at work when she'd decided on a whim to make a left and stop at the used book store, thinking if nothing else it would pass the time. _'Plus, just because I dropped out of school doesn't mean I can never pick up a book again.'_

The shop was small and cluttered. Books lined the shelves along the walls, were stacked on top of the shelves and the two coffee tables, they rose like columns from the floor wherever there was space.

There weren't many people in the shop. A grey-haired woman behind the counter was arguing good-naturedly with a girl of perhaps thirteen with purple and black hair. A man of about twenty was sprawled out in between one of the rows of books. He was surrounded by a travel mug and a pile books, at least three of them were open, and he was taking avid notes. The three well-worn chairs in the shop corner near the window were occupied. None of the furniture matched; both coffee tables were made of different wood, two of the chairs were green, the one where a man in an oxford and tie sat had yellow stripes, the other had blue diamonds and a woman wearing business casual attire, her chestnut hair piled back in a tight bun; she sat reading, occasionally she poked at the man in the tie to incite him to turn his laptop in her direction.

From the third chair rose a small balding man with brown hair and a wide toothy smile. Grabbing hold of a coffee mug he navigated the mine field of stray books covering the floor in short piles and ended a few feet in front of her.

"You're new?" He had a slight accent which she couldn't place, when he'd said it, it had sounded like a question, but Rose had the feeling he hadn't been asking.

She nodded at him. "How'd you know?"

"Because this is my shop and I've never seen you. Also, because you've been standing at the doorway for a full minute taking inventory," he joked. She gave him a small chuckle, though it fell flat on her ears. He spread his arms out wide and took a step back. "So, what do you think?"

"It's lovely," she said after a moment. "Feels sorta homey, you know? Comfortable."

He'd smiled at her like she'd said exactly the right thing. It was a soft smile and Rose felt herself warming up to the eccentric man in the eccentric shop. "Yes," he sighed happily.

He took a step to the side and ushered her into the store further, seeming to understand her need for space. Leading her over to the spot behind the counter where the girl and lady were still arguing Rose noticed the coffee station set up in a little nook. He motioned for her to help herself, and feeling somewhat bashful but allowing herself to be led by the man's disarming personality, she made her way over to it. Built into one side of the counter was a small stainless steel sink. To the right of the sink were a tea kettle on a hot plate and an old percolator. A pile of different teas had been pushed off to the side of the counter, and above it all, as mismatched as the rest of the shop, mugs dangled from their handles awaiting use.

Needing no more encouragement, Rose had chosen a light blue one with navy flowers. She turned on the hot plate and set about preparing her tea as she liked it, finding milk in a little fridge under the counter. When the kettle clicked off she poured the water and picked up her cup before turning to face the room.

"Anything in particular you wish to find?"

He seemed to be scrutinizing her; she shook her head uncomfortably, and said nothing for a long time. "Just trying to pass the time."

He kept studying her. She knew what he must see. Estate chav. Bleached hair in need of a touch-up, eye make-up too dark, clothes too worn and baggy. Eventually he walked away.

She took a few steps to follow him, but decided against it – instead she began perusing the books near the front of the shop. She found them to be in no particular order and wondered how anyone ever found anything.

Less than five minutes had passed before the store owner returned to her side, holding a book out for her to take.

"Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone," she read. She'd heard of it vaguely but had never had any interest in picking it up, or any other book for that matter, until she'd dropped out.

"Five dollars. You take it home, you read it. If you like it you keep it, if you don't like it, you get your five dollars back."

"Why this book," she was curious. He'd clearly sought out this book for her specifically. And he seemed so sure of himself.

When he answered her his smile had been sad and knowing. "We all need to escape into fantasy from time to time," he'd pushed the book into her arms and then disappeared quickly into a back room.

Rose had paid for the book and left. She'd read the entire first book in two nights, while she waited up for Jimmy to get home. A week after she'd finished the first book he hadn't come home at all and she'd decided to go back to the little used book store for the next book.

She'd learned a lot of the owner of the shop during her many visits. His name was David Peterson. He'd had a family, but they'd died in a car accident when his son and daughter were six and two. Mr. Peterson had read almost every book that had come into his used book store, and more—and he had the uncanny ability to match the book to the person.

She read the Harry Potter books too quickly, and when she had finished them she'd been discontent. She wanted to know what happened next; she wanted to read slower and savor the words, she wanted to read faster so she could read more and more.

Mr. Peterson understood this too. He likened it to the swoop of your heart in your stomach when you drop quickly on the London Eye, but sad instead of pleasant.

He'd chosen Harry Potter well; even as they moved on from Harry Potter to Jane Eyre and Jane Austen, to Shakespeare and Poe and Robert Frost, Rose had found herself imagining Hogwarts and Hogsmeade. For the first time in sixteen years she was enchanted by something—she felt like the words were a part of her, they gave her strength.

Until the first time Jimmy hit her. Brave women in books like Hermione and Elizabeth Bennet would never tolerate violence from the people they loved, but Rose had been frozen in shock and shame. She was an estate girl and she had let him get this far. She didn't leave when he stayed out late with the band, or when he came home smelling like marijuana and vodka, not even when he'd come home with lipstick and eye make-up smeared all over his shirt. She let him yell and talk down to her, even as she paid for the bedsit they lived in.

Her inaction had led him to believe he could get away with hurting her. And when he'd finally gotten drunk enough to try she had been too shocked to do anything more than cry and lock herself in the bathroom. Where else could she go when her mother and Mickey wouldn't speak to her?

She'd believed him when he'd apologized in the morning and for a while their relationship had been better than ever—then he'd done it again. And he'd kept doing it until he barely needed alcohol in his blood to provoke an assault. Rose had buried the damage behind make-up and books and told herself it would all be okay once Jimmy's band made it.

She'd known better though. It was a night in late August that he'd come home earlier than usual, totally sober. Normally she would have been relieved, but from the moment she had left Mr. Peterson's shop that evening she'd had a feeling of intense foreboding.

Jimmy slammed the door shut and locked it. He walked wordlessly toward the bed and reached under it – Rose's heart swooped to her stomach – and pulled out a small wooden chest filled with her books. From his back pocket he pulled out her copy of Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone and his flask.

He dropped the book on the pile with the rest, opened his flask and took a long swig before pouring the rest of the contents into her treasure chest. She'd begun to cry quietly as she watched him, but she made no move to stop him. She watched as he bent down with his lighter and set her books aflame.

Once they'd been reduced to mostly ash Jimmy had turned on her with unclouded eyes. He stalked toward her, yelling about her stupidity, her wastefulness, her squandering. He grabbed her by her hair and pulled her face close to his, demanding to know how she could dare judge him for his drinking when she was wasting all of her money on shitty books.

He threw her into their table, which skidded across the floor and into the wall and caused one of the chairs to clatter to the scuffed linoleum. "Why can't you do anything useful," he asked before slamming her head against the wood.

He spun her around and punched her in the face, then again. Blood filled her mouth and her jaw had dislocated. He grabbed her again and pulled her off the table, shoved her in the direction of the bed and kicked her when she didn't move quickly enough.

She stumbled to the ground with a shout and he kicked her again and again. She kept crying for him to "please stop, Jimmy…Jimmy! Jimmy, stop! PLEASE!" But he kept going until unconsciousness began to creep in.

He pulled her up off the floor and threw her onto the bed, and for one paralyzing moment she thought—but he didn't. Instead, he pulled out a switch blade and held it to her neck, taunting her with it. He dragged it along her arms and collar bone like a caress and allowed his body to rub up against her battered body so she could feel for herself the pleasure he'd gleaned from tormenting her. Eventually he returned the sharp blade to her neck and added just enough pressure to draw a thin line of blood. By that time her terror had mounted to high she hadn't even felt any pain.

She was sure now that this would be how she died—if not tonight then tomorrow, or the next. She didn't want to die like this—sixteen-years-old, almost seventeen; she'd never done anything or gone anywhere. She hadn't talked to her family or friends in months.

She'd fallen unconscious still screaming at Jimmy, with him pinned above her, erection pressed against her thigh, cooing her name lovingly, with an acidic smile, every time she'd cried for him to stop.

##############################################################################

It had been eleven days since Torchwood and Rose's body was healing surprisingly well, even considering all the help the TARDIS's vast stores of medical equipment had been able to offer. She still spent most of her time lying in bed… at his request, but sometimes the Doctor helped Rose into the hover chair, and for the last two days he'd helped her stretch her legs. She'd grown tired rather quickly and had slept for the remainder of the night cycle each time.

That's why her thief was sulking in his workshop now, to let her rest…at least that's what he had told himself, but she knew better. Seeing Rose injured and unable to leave her bed for a five minute walk (if it could even be called that) without depleting all her energy left him feeling distinctly ill. He'd spent most of his time in that room with her and required a moment to himself. He wished to pretend that at any moment she may come skipping in, asking him to take her somewhere 'impressive.' She wouldn't have enough energy to skip off to another adventure for another three weeks if her progression stayed consistent—but just two weeks ago, Rose and her thief had been running.

The TARDIS had been disappointed in him since the battle. She'd made her opinion on his cowardice known and her conversations with him had been short at best since the loud one had come and gone. She knew what her thief was thinking: that she had aligned herself with Rose and every time the Doctor had tried to explain himself the TARDIS had become defensive, like he was just some bloke that had broken her daughter's heart and not her '_bloody pilot'_—still, he'd eventually given up trying.

Still, when her Rose's sleep cycle was nearing its end, or she needed something the TARDIS could not give her, she would tell her thief and he would always come. So when suddenly the lights in his workshop dimmed and the TARDIS hummed intently, sending a mental push and a picture of Rose's closed door to hurry him, her grumpy pilot pushed himself up off his chair. Irritated that his alone time had been put to an end and dreading having to pretend he was totally unaffected by seeing Rose veritably bed-ridden, the Doctor shuffled slowly off in the direction of her room.

The TARDIS wasn't happy with such slow progression. When her insistent humming yielded no increase in pace, she concentrated some of her power on making the endless corridor shorter. _'When little red will not go to the Wolf's den, the Wolf's den must be brought to little red.'_

In her haste to get him to Rose, and possibly because her private joking had lapsed her concentration, the TARDIS hadn't managed to bring the door all the way to the Doctor. She had brought it within two-hundred meters, and as soon as her thief had realized this, he'd taken off.

Satisfied that he would now make it to Rose on his own, the TARDIS allowed her consciousness to drift for a time. She thought of the origins of folk lore on the many planets she had landed on in her time and those she would land on in her future; each story has a source, she knows. The witch in Hansel and Gretel was an absorbaloff; the witch in Snow White was a Carrionite. Inside her right now were the two most feared creatures of all. The greatest warrior in the universe, the Oncoming Storm, Time's Champion—and the physical manifestation of time—a wolf trapped in girl's clothing. She wasn't the Wolf yet, not really. Maybe she never would be…time is so intricate, after all. But her potential is visible to many of the more perceptive creatures in this universe; already she calls to her own. _'There's something of the Wolf about you… you burn like the sun…'_

##############################################################################

He'd been dragging his feet back to her room, watching his converse slide across the grating and filling his ears with the dull scuffing sound they made with each pass, when he'd felt the corridor shift.

With a puff of air blowing his hair back and making him squint momentarily, he'd suddenly found himself on the other side of the long hallway leading to the bedrooms. He allowed his face to fall into a line of grimace, because apparently his meddling ship can't just let him have a few moments to himself…

Before he'd taken another step a shill sound had taken his attention away from the floor, his face shot up and he was running, long coat trailing behind him like a cape. He didn't knock this time when he reached the cherry oak doors, throwing them open and rushing over to her bed, the Doctor sat down on top of the covers and made a depression in the mattress. He reached out with a tentative hand and cupped her closest shoulder, gently trying to coax her awake but not really sure how.

Rose didn't have nightmares… not that he'd noticed—not ever, or surely the TARDIS would have alerted him a long time ago… right? Yet here she was in the throes of terror, she was whimpering and crying and the Doctor had no idea what to do. She'd led him out of his own nightmares for the last two years and couldn't he do the same?

"Stop…please just stop," she whispered.

"Rose," he kept his voice low like hers and gave her a gentle shake.

"Please stop," she continued to thrash and cry.

"Rose," he said louder, grabbing her firmly by both shoulders to keep her in place.

"Jimmy, Stop! PLEASE," she wasn't whispering now. Her body had gone rigid except for the terrified quivering. He could feel it, her emotions amplified by his touch—she was vibrating in fear, dread, he couldn't remember ever feeling such unbridled horror in his life.

Determined now to wake her up from her nightmare he gives her a slightly rougher shake. "Rose! Rose, wake up… it's okay, you're safe, you just need to wake up now. Rose!" He feels bad for being so rough. She's still bruised and sore, even if the bones in her ribs have knitted themselves together perfectly.

Although, he realizes, flinging her body around as she is won't cause her any less discomfort than he will for shaking her awake. _'Thank Rassilon her hand is well casted.'_ The Doctor knows her left hand was the most damaged and it'll still be another two weeks until he can take the cast off to judge whether it will even ever fully heal.

"Rose," he says in frustration and this time her eyes snap open, but the Doctor can tell immediately that she's still wrapped up in her nightmare. She starts to scream and kick at him, rolling her shoulders to get his hands off her and trying to roll her body away from his. When neither of those things works (he won't let her go while she's panicking, in case she hurts herself) she curls up in a tight ball, tucking her head into her chest and wrapping her arms tightly around her, trying unsuccessfully to arch her body as far away from him as possible. She's sobbing, he realizes.

He's never seen a reaction so strong in her. That's not to say she hadn't always been passionate. Her compassion was limitless and an angry Rose was terrifying in her intensity, but her grief had always been followed by immediate acceptance; she skipped all the stages of grief in between. When her dad had died again, when Mickey had left, when the universal walls had closed, Rose had coped with her grief by telling him stories with a nostalgic smile, a husky voice, and a few occasion tears.

Anger had never caused a reaction have so strong either. Typically, Rose's anger followed a brief outburst, but anger, jealousy, resent were all short-lived emotions for her. They devolved quickly once she'd calmed down, shifting into insecurity or remorse. Once she calmed down she always felt as though she'd overreacted, which admittedly she sometimes did.

No this was entirely different. He knew her and her reactions inside and out; no grief, anger, or fear they had ever experienced together had culminated into this. He couldn't explain it, and it broke his hearts.

Doing something he'd never done before—though he'd frequently entertained the thought, under far pleasanter circumstances—he lifted her balled-up frame with one hand, and used the other to help pull him further onto the mattress. Once he'd made himself comfortable he lowered her back down so her upper body was resting in his lap. He bent down over her, "shh-ing" her softly. "You're safe now, Rose. You're safe; I promise. It's okay—it's okay."

It was almost novel—or it would have been if he weren't so concerned about her—usually it was her waking him from a nightmare, pulling him back to reality and massaging his hair and scalp to help him relax back into sleep. He'd never been asked to care for her.

…although it strikes him that he'd never asked her to care for him either. He'd asked her aboard. Everything she had done after she'd said yes had been because Rose had simply cared. She'd wanted to help him. Maybe she just hadn't needed anything in return; more likely, he'd made her feel as though she shouldn't ask… just another of many things he'd never do for her… just another in a long line of topics which must never be discussed.

Even these last few days Rose had never actually asked him for anything. The TARDIS had been the one to keep him informed of her day-to-day needs, sending him thoughts and pictures so that he'd already known what she needed.

He felt ashamed of himself for this new insight into the last eleven days—let alone their whole relationship—it made it all so much less intimate. The Doctor hadn't been taking care of Rose at all, really, the TARDIS had, and he was only the conduit.

He brushed some tear-dampened hair away from her cheek, freezing for a moment, his forehead crumpling in confusion when she flinched away, but then she relaxed in his lap and he continued on. He finger-brushed her hair until it was unknotted, humming an old Gallifreyan nursery rhyme that he'd once loved until she'd finally calmed down.

It took a while, but eventually her tears stopped and she'd reigned in her trembling. The tight knot she'd twisted her body into had severely relaxed and now she unfolded herself from it entirely, sitting up and leaning back, she turned her face away from him. "Sorry," she muttered with a sniff.

She must have still been disoriented from the shock her dream had caused her. When he gently pulled her back to him so her back came to rest on his chest she flinched away again, her body going stiff. "Sorry," she said again, louder this time. When she looked over her shoulder at his frowning face she appeared surprised to find him there—he doesn't know why, he'd been there for quite some time.

She'd begun to scoot forward to allow him room, to stay in her bed or to slide out of it, but he didn't allow her to get too far before he'd wrapped his arms around her and slid her back into him for the third time; he tried to ignore her continued jumpiness.

##############################################################################

When Rose had come out of her panic and realized she was awake and safe, the Doctor was right behind her, muttering to her and telling her she was okay now. Overcome with humiliation for being seen in such a vulnerable state, and shame that he might possibly know what she had been dreaming about, and overcome by the turbulent emotions her nightmare had resurfaced, Rose curled further into herself – ignoring the dull throb of her partially healed injuries – and sobbed like she hadn't allowed herself to in years.

When she'd pulled herself together she shook her limbs out and sat herself up, only to be pulled back-to-chest with another person. After a quick flinch she realized it must be the Doctor and froze; she hadn't realized he'd gone so far as to crawl onto her bed to comfort her.

Moving forward to give him personal space, keeping her blotchy, tear-stained face directed away from his view, she didn't get more than a few inches before he'd wrapped his lanky arms around her and pulled her back into him. "I'm just fine here, thanks," he told her, his arms were still wrapped loosely around her and his chin was resting lightly on her shoulder.

"'kay," she intoned after a while. Her voice was gravely from sleep and tears and she didn't trust herself to say anything more than that.

"Do you want to talk about it," he whispered. He usually didn't like to talk about it she knew, but he had done once, and she'd listened. It really had helped.

She shook her head back and forth slowly. "No_p_e."

For a few moments the quiet in the room was only interrupted by Rose's nervous shuffling and continued sniffles. She was waiting for him to push the subject; he was trying to think of a change of subject that would lift her spirits.

Finally his eyes settled upon a book. "What's this," he exclaimed, reaching forward and picking it up off the bed sheets. "Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone," he read.

##############################################################################

"Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone," he read.

"Mmhmmm," Rose drawled. He looked up from the book for a moment, sneaking a glance at her out of the corner of his eye. She was smiling at the cover of the tattered paperback in his hands, her eyes were lit up in the way he'd only ever seen when they were in the midst of an escape or running for their lives. It was something infinitely precious to her, this tattered little book.

Thinking his job of cheering her up just got a lot easier, he flipped the book around to read the back cover. He frowned. "This is a children's book?"

She ripped it out of his hands too fast for even him to realize it had happened until she'd already clutched it to her chest. "Classifying Harry Potter into an age division or genre is criminal, this book is so much more," she huffed.

Welll," he told her as he slid the book from her protective hold, "How should I know that, I've never heard of it before now."

Her head spun to face him so fast he'd gotten a mouthful of her hair. He spit it out dramatically with a "Do you mind?!" However, Rose paid him no heed.

"Are you _serious_?" She demanded. Her eyes were wide and fierce, her voice rose until it was nearly a shriek—he almost told her he was joking to keep her from attacking him. "You've traveled all of time and space! You're hundreds of years old! _You've never heard of_ _Harry Potter?!_"

He almost laughed at her outrage, but frankly, she was a bit scary just then. He kept his face as serious as possible. "No. Should I have?"

"YES!"

"Okay," he said, leaning back against the headboard and sinking slightly into the mattress. He dragged her back with him so their bodies stayed pressed together. "'bout time I found out then, wouldn't you say?"

He didn't need to see her face to know how happy he'd made her, and the happiness rolling off her body, momentary as it was, made him smile too. The wolf-y grin she'd occasionally grace him with—eyes dancing, tongue caught in her teeth—a dog with its head out an open window, tongue out, ears flapping, eyes bright because for that moment in time, she's flying and she's never known such exhilaration—he doesn't have to look at her to know he just put that look on her face. Lately (at least for the last two years or so) it seems like he lives his life just waiting for the next time he's able to make her smile like that. He lives for it. He opened the book…

"Chapter one, "The Boy Who Lived"; Mr. and Mrs. Dursley, of number four, Privet Drive, were proud to say that they were perfectly normal, thank you very much. They were the last people you'd expect to be involved in anything strange or mysterious…" Eventually, Rose sunk even further into the Doctor. He glanced her way occasionally, watching her eyes flutter closed, but she never fell asleep, the entire time he was reading. The content smile never left her face and something about her mental presence left him with the impression that she was breathing in the words as he spoke them. She knew if he mispronounced a spell, skipped a word, paused a moment too long. And when he yawned one time too many, she took up the book for him and brought it to life behind his closed eyes. The book, he found as he drifted off to sleep just as Dumbledore caught Harry sitting in front of the mirror of Erised, which thanks to his big Time Lord brain, he knew was desire spelled backwards, reminded him quite a bit of Rose herself; she defied mono-classification as well, and to attempt to stifle her by boxing her into a specific stereotype would indeed be criminal.

**##############################################################################**

**There we are! I hope you enjoyed it!**

***Something else: I know no definitive backstory for Rose's time with Jimmy Stone is ever given. What I've written about is how I've always imagined it to be. I'd like to note that I'm not doing this to make Rose appear damaged, or to make her another damsel in distress for the Doctor to save. I had a similar, but still vastly different relationship in my own past and for me, imagining Rose rising from something like that and going to be what she was makes her a million times stronger. And it gives me hope that all of the battered victims, men, women, and children, can rise as well.**

***Also, as a further note, I've changed the title of this story; I've never been totally content with "Eddies in Time" and whilst writing this one a different title popped out at me. I decided to go for it—sorry for any confusion it causes.**


	7. The Smith's and Jones

**Author's Note: So sorry for not updating in so long. I plead end of semester stress and a bout of pneumonia, the after effects of which are still lingering. The good news is that I've managed to get ahead! I have three more chapters done and will be posting them all in a much more timely manner than this last one. Also, I'm looking for a beta—I really want to make this fiction all that I think it can be. How does one find a beta? **

**This whole episode was fun to write. I sincerely hope you enjoy it and I can't wait to hear what you think. Thank-you to my followers and to those of you who have taken the time to let me know what you think—it really makes my day to get your reviews and I hope you'll continue to write to me with your comments, concerns, and suggestions!**

**I hope everyone had happy holidays and ate lots of sweets and I wish the same for the upcoming New Year! I hope your cups are refilled often and that your resolutions will come true. 3 **

**-AMouse**

Rose and the Doctor spent the next three weeks of her recovery fanatically reading the rest of the Harry Potter series, even going into Rose's future to wait in a line in full Hogwarts paraphernalia the night before the release of the final book.

By the fourth week the Doctor had become fidgety. He was physically aching for adventure—a concert, a tyrannical government, an alien in a human skin suit, anything. Rose was in a similar state and had no sympathy to spare him. She'd been out of bed for two weeks and her bruises were all but gone. Her bones were all healed and the Doctor had given her exercises to strengthen the bones in her left hand. Mercifully he'd told her she'd have full mobility in it again. From a medical perspective she was perfectly able to resume her usual pursuits, so Rose didn't understand why the Doctor was so reluctant to give them the adventure they both so desperately craved, and she was currently telling him so for the fourth time that day.

It was the sixth night of their fourth week without danger and they'd dressed up as Luna Lovegood and Neville Longbottom and were standing out in the late night chill in a long time, awaiting entrance to the premiere of the eighth Harry Potter movie. The Doctor was expertly avoiding answering her questions, which never worked anymore because Rose had come a long way since her first trip—she'd gone from "failing hullabaloo" to acing deflection 101.

Still, he wouldn't budge, so when the queue finally started shuffling forward signaling the opened cinema doors, she tipped her head back to the sky, closed her eyes tight, and groaned at his stubbornness, totally missing the quick flush that ignited on his freckled face. His eyes dilated and he turned away from her for a total of three seconds to get control of himself. By the time she'd finished her irritated theatrics he was looking back at her calmly with an unimpressed expression on his face. He laced their fingers and led them inside the cinema to join the bustling crowd.

The Doctor hadn't climbed into Rose's bed again since the night of her nightmare and neither of them had mentioned it ever again—just one more thing to add to long list of things unmentionable. Something had been bothering the Doctor for weeks though, and try as he might he could not move past it.

She had been so terrified, more so than he'd ever seen her. And she hadn't been dreaming about the Daleks, or the Cybermen, or the Beast that predicted she'd die in battle. At least he didn't think so. No. Because she'd said the name "Jimmy"… cried it really… she'd begged. He hadn't done anything with the information. He wanted to respect her privacy, but it was becoming increasingly hard when every time he closed his own eyes all he could see was Rose hitting a white wall, or Rose begging someone named Jimmy to stop. _'Stop what?'_

It had been a combined total of six weeks before they made their way to modern day London again. They'd gone with the intention of emptying out Jackie's flat, but the Doctor had landed six months too late. When they got to the flat, it had already been cleaned out and a new family had moved in.

"All I'm saying Doctor is that it wouldn't kill ya to double check the date every once in a while."

"I'll have you know I always double check the date; the TARDIS changes it."

"You can't have it both ways, you know. Either you pilot her and you're bad at it, or she pilots herself and you aren't, in fact, the designated driver at all."

He replied by sticking out his tongue. She countered.

"Come on then," he said to her, offering his fightin' hand. "Let's go get some chips. After that, we can take her back six months and clear out a room in the TARDIS for all the boxes… I almost don't want to get this over with…Rassilon knows what sorts of—of _things_ your mother kept."

She batted his arm playfully when he mock shivered. "Hush you!"

##############################################################################

It was growing dark by the time they'd left the chippy and begun walking hand-in-hand down the busy London streets. Rose stopped suddenly, her face screwed up in confusion. Dropping the Doctor's hand and holding out both of hers as if in the middle of a jumping jack, she looked at him inquiringly.

"It feels weird here, don't you think?"

He took a step toward her, but felt nothing. Shaking his head, he took another step so their toes were almost touching. His own face screwed up. "What is that," he said to himself. "Plasma coils, in London? I don't know why I'm surprised. Good job noticing them Rose, they're weak here, another step to the left and you'd never feel them at all."

He looked at her curiously for a moment then took a step past her—then another, and another. "They get stronger, see Rose? The closer to this building we get the stronger they are…I wonder what's inside?"

"It's a hospital. That's Royal Hope Hospital," she told him, chewing worriedly on her lower lip. He lost his train of thought for a moment.

"A hospital… right… well—I'd say we'd better check in," he said, beginning to lead her by the hand in the direction of the main doors. "Actually you'd better check in. I have two hearts, it wouldn't do get dissected before the fun starts, would it," he stopped then, concern replacing the excitement on his features. "Hold on, are you ready for this? Because you can go back to the TA—"

"NO! I mean, yeah, I'm ready; definitely. Yes," she interrupted him.

She'd been ready for weeks for even a little bit of excitement, and if he continued to coddle her, she and the TARDIS might just decide they're better off without the 'designated driver' after all. "Okay then, let's go," the Doctor sighed in resignation and started swinging their coupled hands between them as they took off again.

Realistically the Doctor had nothing to worry about; Rose's injuries were entirely healed. It would take equipment from the 28th century at the earliest to see that the breaks were as recent as they were—that didn't stop him from nervously fidgeting. Taking Rose to all eight Harry Potter movie premiers was one thing, but it was too soon for her to be in danger like this, he was sure of it.

##############################################################################

Rose had faked stomach cramps while the Doctor filled out paperwork and attempted to keep a straight face. _'How can she have such a brilliant poker face and absolutely no concept of acting?'_

"Rose Tyler" had gone missing: presumed dead at the Battle of Canary Wharf six months ago, so when asked about her marital status the Doctor slipped biodampers on their fingers to avoid resurrecting Rose, and so he'd be able to stay with her.

When they'd been called back for a preliminary examination by an elderly nurse with a constant grimace, the Doctor had resolved himself to play the part of doting newlywed, telling himself not to enjoy it too much…up until the point when the nurse had asked if there was any chance of pregnancy. He'd been about to speak up when Rose had said, "It's possible. We've only been trying for a couple of months though."

He'd started floundering and couldn't seem to gain control of himself. Luckily the nurse was focused entirely on Rose. When she finally left them, he'd turned to face her calmly. "So, dear… I hadn't realized we were expecting."

She rolled her eyes. "We aren't. I said we'd been trying. It'd look weird if we said there was no chance at all, considering we're "married." Plus this way they don't just look me over and give me some stomach pills."

"That—that's actually a brilliant plan. Okay, but we're naming it Alonso."

"What if it's a girl," asked Rose, tolerantly.

He gave her the 'dribbled-on-your-shirt' look that she and Sarah Jane had bonded over last year. "Still Alonso."

Rose, as it turned out, had been right to suggest possible pregnancy. Tests were run and after midnight they had all come back negative. She was admitted for overnight observation, and the Doctor was permitted to stay because he'd pretended to be asleep and Rose had said some nonsense about him having insomnia, "so please don't wake him."

Once all attention was diverted from the duo the Doctor yawned theatrically and stretched his arms above his head. "What a lovely nap."

"Shut up," she quipped. "Don't you have some investigating to do, or something?"

He took a moment to study her; she looked tiny, curled up on the hospital bed. She'd lost weight and muscle mass during her recovery but he'd grown so used to seeing her every day he hadn't really taken notice before now—her cheeks were just a little too hollow, her shoulders and collar bone protruding just a little too much.

Her eyes were still just as bright though, like whiskey, or butterscotch. He hated seeing her on this bed after all the time she'd already spent in her own.

His throat closed up on him and he swallowed repeatedly against the sensation. He had the sudden, overwhelming need to escape from their little curtained enclosure. "Right…welll, guess I'd better get going then," the teasing smile left Rose's face, the Doctor felt terrible for his quick dismissal. "I'll bring round some chips on my way back. You should try to get some sleep, it's late."

"I woke up six hours ago," she pointed out.

"Afternoon nap, then," he smiled cheekily as he turned on his heel and darted between the parted curtains.

Rose had been traveling with him for over two years, and if the Doctor had prided himself on one thing, it was that he knew Rose Tyler. But the last few weeks had shown him that maybe he didn't know her as completely as he had assumed.

This did not sit well with the Doctor. Puzzles were not meant to go unfinished, and if she was still a mystery to him then she needed to be solved. Since when had she been so good at hiding things? Since he'd taught her to shield her mind—before that even? Rose had never been predictable, he had long since given up expecting her to react as the rest of the species of her time period did; in fact, it was one of the reasons he'd first been interested in asking her to join him.

Most people ask questions, and then feel overwhelmed by the answers. Rose said "okay." She said okay when she stepped into a bigger on the inside time traveling spaceship. She said okay when that spaceship was sentient—believed it even, and treated the TARDIS as she would any other living creature from then on. When she had been standing on that platform with him in leather, it had been with interest and mild amusement; she hadn't become overwhelmed until she'd seen Cassandra, and that was most likely his fault; he'd led her to believe there were no humans left in the universe. She had run off because she'd seen a flap of skin call itself a human and realized that she was the only human left. She had felt like him—he was ashamed to admit that had been exactly what he'd wanted…for someone to know what it felt like to be him.

But something about this felt different. This was more than unpredictability; it had never once occurred to the Doctor until the last few weeks, but while he had begun to slowly rely upon Rose for a multitude of things, from listening nonjudgmentally to the nightmares of his past, to finding where the TARDIS hid the last jar of marmalade, Rose had never confided in the Doctor on much more than a superficial basis before. He knew her dad had died when she was young and that her mum had been a wonderful parent—even if sometimes she drank too much or brought home too many of the wrong type of bloke—he knew her favorite color, her best friends growing up, that she'd dropped out of school, that she liked Johnny Cash and loved Audrey Hepburn movies. Those were all facts. They were stats on the backs of trading cards; there was no emotion behind them, there were no secrets or fears. He'd arrogantly assumed that because she was young and human that that was all there was, nothing deeper. Now every time he looks at her all he can see is how wrong he was… and he hates to be wrong. There is still so much there that he hadn't been bothered to think about, and why hadn't she ever said? The Doctor had always known his relationship with Rose was one-sided, and doomed to remain so… but he had been wrong… turns out they've both been withholding things.

##############################################################################

Rose didn't sleep a wink after the Doctor had left to investigate. She'd counted the ceiling tiles, counted sheep, counted Daleks, but try as she did, she just could not make herself tired.

Instead Rose lay in bed, her eyes closed, and she tried to focus on her surroundings. Rose had begun to do this even before she had remembered opening the heart of the TARDIS; slowly, it had become instinctual to her. Then, through a series of dreams, her memories had slowly begun returning to her. She still couldn't remember everything, but she knew enough to know her dreams were not dreams. Sometimes at night, her memories would continue to seep through.

Eyes closed, Rose focused on the worn cotton sheets around her, trying to make out the individual scratch of each thread, but being unsuccessful. Her cubicle was the last on the left, closest to the nurses' station and the set of heavy double doors. To her left sat her own heart monitor, beeping rhythmically, to her right were the heart monitors of two other patients, both most likely asleep, the beeping was their individual monitors was just slightly out of sync with the other.

The floors and walls had been baptized in bleach and antiseptic. It coated every surface and coagulated in the air. Rose could smell it, when she breathed in deeply through her mouth she could almost taste the chemicals on her tongue, sweet and bitter and burning her throat slightly when she swallowed; the taste remained on her tongue for some time.

There was the occasional scurrying back and forth by the nurses, and at some point a janitor had gone sauntering by, pushing a trolley in front of him as he went about his business. Rose had lost track of time. Immersed deeply in the world around her, she had entered a kind of meditative state.

Her mind was so deeply focused that she could feel the pulse of the TARDIS's consciousness even at this distance (three miles, her brain supplied automatically); the old girl was humming at her happily, joyously, in fact. She allowed the TARDIS's mental presence to caress her own, almost losing her concentration when the feeling was so familiar, but then the old girl pushed a quick series of mental freeze frames across her mind like the shutter of a camera, each accompanied by a series of emotions – the TARDIS's feelings, Rose realized.

First she saw herself, nineteen, frozen mid-swing, hanging from a chain with the Nestene Consciousness bubbling below her. She felt hope for the Doctor's future. Then she saw the Doctor, his glacial eyes focused disparagingly on the floor, his hands fisted, and Rose could feel the Doctor's humility through his bond with the TARDIS—it felt foreign to him—and the TARDIS's hope flared. _'I also travel in time,'_ she'd reminded her thief.

She saw herself in a beautiful red dress. Rose had accepted that the TARDIS was alive and allowed her to pick the dress herself; she felt the TARDIS's thankfulness and content.

Then she was standing in the control room with her mum, the Doctor, and Mickey. Her mum's mouth was frozen open in horror. This was right after she'd first seen the dimensionally transcendental time ship and it felt like a family gathering.

She felt the old girl's humor over the jealousy Adam's short time as a companion had caused the Doctor; worry when the Doctor brought a sobbing Rose back home to the ship when she'd made the impulsive decision to save her dad and had to watch him die anyway.

The TARDIS had much to communicate about Captain Jack. Her feelings ranged from fond exasperation, to bemusement, to empathy, to loss. She missed Jack as much as Rose.

Interestingly, when the old girl focused on their trip to modern day Cardiff, Rose felt the sense of mutual ownership. The TARDIS considered them a pack (Rose tried and failed to suppress a mental snort at the old girl's description), and Rose was their leader. She was the balancing force which kept them all together and existing in harmony: the tin dog that she inspired to become a man, the conman that for her became a hero, the obsolete type 40 TARDIS, a relic that ran away from home with her thief, and the outcast, an old mad man who found a cornered she-wolf and took her by the hand—he showed her the stars and she gave him a den and a pack.

Finally, Rose saw gold. It shined behind her closed eyelids so sharply she thought she would cut herself on the color. It swirled and eddied, it cascaded to and fro in waves and ripples and multitudes of varying pigments of silver and gold and bronze. It crept from the still image the TARDIS had sent her and smoky tendrils of golden dust melted into the corners of her mind. Rose became the gold and the smoke and the dust; she remembered having this dream before—no, not a dream. This had happened. She had seen this before. Once upon a time Rose Tyler had opened up the heart of the TARDIS and she had looked inside. She'd seen time, not as the Time Lords had seen it – through the schism – she had seen it all rushing past her at once. And she hadn't acted to abuse her knowledge or shape outcomes to fit her own selfish desires. Time had given her an impossible gift. She hadn't burned.

Rose could see how foolish she and the Doctor were to have ever thought a wolf could run wild through eternity without eternity touching her. She was steeped in time, it rolled aromatically off her skin with every rush of wind. How could he not smell it too? It was overwhelming. Like the Cybermen and Daleks had been coated in the Void, like Artron Energy attaches itself to time travelers, the Vortex had seeped into Rose's skin; her flesh prickled at the sensation, and behind her closed eyes Rose and the TARDIS could see how the golden coils of time connected one heart to the other. So long as the TARDIS was there to act as a conductor, the Vortex would be a part of Rose until the day she died. Like medallions given to heroes for their acts of valor, it would serve as an invisible symbol of her devotion to Time's Champion.

She was pulled away from the TARDIS forcefully by an insistent shaking. "Mrs. Smith! Mrs. Smith! Wake up, ma'am," said a young nurse.

Rose opened her eyes slowly and gave the doe-eyed brunette girl a disoriented "Wha'?"

"Your heart rate was skyrocketing. You must have been having a bad dream—do you remember?"

"No," she half-lied. Rose remembered the TARDIS communicating with her with pictures. She remembered the deep feeling of oneness between herself and the old girl…then everything was gold and she was a wolf. But her dream hadn't been bad…had it even been a dream? It was fading now. "Not really. It wasn't a bad dream though. I was a wolf and I was running through the stars, I think. It was beautiful."

The nurse smiled shyly. "Sorry to've woken you, Mrs. Smith, but your heart was racing so quick 'n I thought—"

"S'okay. Really. What time is it?"

"Oh, nearly five in the morning. Sun will be rising soon and morning rounds will be starting shortly, too."

Rose looked around. "Have you seen my husband?"

She nodded, a deep burgundy blush blooming out from the apples of her cheeks. "He said he didn't want to wake you with his snoring so he went to have a kip in the empty waiting area," she said. "Popped back in about an hour ago, but you must have been asleep. He left pretty quickly—said something about bananas and tea and then he was off again. He keeps popping back in every twenty minutes or so to see if you've woken but he doesn't stay. Not one to sit still is he," the nurse – Claire, her nametag said – laughed. The color on her cheeks had grown less pronounced.

Rose gave a fond chuckle. "No. He's not."

Rose and the nurse exchanged pleasantries for a few more minutes before she left to get back to her duties and then Rose was back to counting the tiles on the ceiling. Luckily it wasn't long before the Doctor had pushed aside the curtain and peaked in to find her awake and sitting up.

Much to Rose's confusion, the moment the Doctor realized she was awake, he dropped his head and refused to make eye contact. Even as he parted the curtains and took a seat in the chair beside her bed, the conversation was awkward and he wouldn't meet her eyes.

At 5:45 in the morning the curtain was pushed aside again. Unlike the Doctor's quiet peaking in, this man seemed unconcerned with whether or not she may have been resting.

"Now then, Mr. Smith, Mrs. Smith, a very good morning to you. How are you today?" Said the doctor as he nodded his head in greeting to John Smith and looked his patient up and down.

"Uh, not so bad… still a bit… you know… Blah," Mrs. Smith finished. Mr. Smith covered his mouth to hide a cough. 

"Mrs. Rose Smith, admitted yesterday with severe abdominal pains. Jones, why don't you see what you can find? Amaze me."

"That wasn't very clever, running around outside, was it?" The pretty black woman frowned at the Doctor as she stepped toward Rose and prepared to begin her examination. She huffed on the end of her stethoscope to warm it up.

The Doctor tipped his head to the side in confusion. "Sorry?"

"On Chancery Street this morning. You came up to me and took your tie off."

"Really?" He looked to Rose and asked, "What did I do that for?" The blonde shrugged her shoulders and gave her "husband" a why-are-you-asking-me face.

"I don't know," said the pretty medical student. "You just did."

"Not me. I was here, pacing the halls all night. Ask the nurses."

"Well, that's weird, cause it looked like you. Have you got a brother?"

"No, not any more. Just me." '_And Rose.'_

The medical student continued to look at the Doctor in silence, apparently unaware of what she was doing, until he began to fidget uncomfortably. "As time passes and I grow ever more infirm and weary, Miss Jones."

"Sorry. Right," she shook her head clear and put the now cold stethoscope onto Rose's chest to listen to her lungs. Rose could feel the chilly metal through the thin hospital gown she'd been forced to don.

Mr. Stoker, unhappy with his student's slow pace, scoffed from his place behind her. "I weep for further generations. Are you having trouble locating the heart, Miss Jones?"

"I was listening to her lungs as well." She turned back to the woman on the bed. "Any chance of pregnancy?"

Mr. Stoker cut Rose off before she could get out a full syllable. "Had you not rather failed basic techniques by not consulting first with the patient's chart, you would have seen that pregnancy had been considered and the blood work had come back negative."

He picked up the chart at the end of her bed and received a visible electric shock, making him gasp and drop the chart onto the end of the bed. Multiple students spoke over one another, having experienced a similar shock.

"That's only to be expected," Mr. Stoker said. "There's a thunderstorm moving in and lightning is a form of static electricity, as was first proven by - anyone?"

"Benjamin Franklin," Rose and the Doctor said together and then looked at each other, the Doctor in shock, and Rose with a tiny smirk on her otherwise stoic face.

"Correct!" Mr. Stoker exclaimed.

The Doctor recovered quickly. "My mate Ben, that was a day and a half," he told Rose. "I got rope burns off that kite, and then I got soaked…"

"Quite..."

"... and then I got electrocuted." By the end of his story Mr. Stoker looked thoroughly convinced he was insane, and some of his students were shifting awkwardly as well. Not wanted him to be carted away in a restraints, but too amused to come up with a solution to the problem he'd just created for them, she burst into laughter. "You—you're barking," she said when her laughter had ebbed into chuckles. The Doctor smiled back at her.

"Moving on," Stoker said, whispering aside to his students as they left the couple alone. "I thought for a moment we'd have to call in psychiatrics."

Once they were gone the Doctor turned to his blonde companion with an eyebrow raised. "Benjamin Franklin?"

"What about him," she asked, confused.

"You said Benjamin Franklin."

The confused smile began to drain off her face as she realized where he may be going with his line of questioning. "That was the answer."

Not realizing he was about to choke on his foot, he said, "I know. But how did you know that?"

Her face ignited in bright red from anger, but more from embarrassment. _'Is that really what he thinks of me?'_ She didn't say anything for a long time, half waiting for him to realize his mistake and apologize; maybe to tell her he didn't mean it the way it sounded. But mostly just to get control of herself so she could answer him rationally. Two years ago, when she first started traveling with him, she'd been irrational and too quick to react—so had he. But one of them needed to be mature and she knew it wasn't likely to be him. Responsible, yes; mature, never.

He was still waiting for an answer, so with a deep, calming breath, Rose told him. "Because I went to school until I was sixteen, Doctor. And I read. And it's common knowledge."

The Doctor shrugged his shoulders like he had decided to believe her, but after a few minutes even he was unable to ignore the tension that had worked its way between them. He made some excuses about doing more searching and left her once more.

**##############################################################################**

He'd left Rose about a quarter of an hour ago on the pretense of more investigating, but really he'd just needed a reprieve from the strain that had suddenly fallen between them. He assumed he'd done or said something he shouldn't have, but didn't know what.

Two years ago, Rose would have gotten angry and yelled at him. She would have told him exactly what he'd done wrong. Recently though she'd gained a new control over her emotions, specifically her temper. She didn't rage at him anymore. She looked hurt or disappointed and then she moved on. He missed the yelling; she always looked beautiful when she was angry, if a little bit dangerous. His ninth self often thought about what it would be like to see that passion focused on pleasure instead of rage. His ninth self thought about that a lot. He does too, if he's being honest with himself.

The Doctor takes a deep breath and forces thoughts of an angry, flushed Rose from his mind. _'Concentrate. Time and a place…time and a place…time an…d…and it's raining up. Bollox!'_

Sprinting back down the hall as fast as he can, he collides with the wall just outside the doors to Rose's wing when he can't take the turn at his velocity, but he pushes himself back off the wall with momentum in the direction of her bed, roughing swinging the divider to the side and looking into her quickly sit herself up straight in her bed and meet his panicked eyes with her startled face.

He had been in such a hurry he hadn't engaged his respiratory bypass system and was consequently heaving and out of breath. If Rose's startled eyes were any indication, he must look half wild.

"What is it?!" she asked.

"It's raining the wrong way," he half shouted, and Rose's previously panicked face contorted in confusion. Just then the hospital convulsed and Rose's body was jolted from the bed and to the floor.

Before he even realized what he was doing, his body had reacted; he dove for her. Reaching her just as her back and side thudded against the linoleum of the floor, he instinctually stretched out so their eyes were lined up, noses millimeters apart, her body was tucked as safely as he could manage in between his own as he hovered over her in a protective arch on his knees and elbows.

Her IV drip, which had been giving her saline all night, had been pulled from her arm during her fall, but he knew aside from the small dot of blood it had left behind and some small bruising from hitting the floor, she was fine.

The Doctor fared worse. The metal rack holding the heart monitor and saline solution shook from the plasma coils and fell cuttingly against his right shoulder blade, making him close his eyes and hiss in pain. The empty breakfast tray that had been sitting on the swiveling table top at the end of her bed had also crashed to the floor near his feet, and he'd reacted by drawing his knees in closer to Rose's body, effectively pinning her against him by his knees to her hips.

Seconds later, as the quakes drew to a close, the Doctor realized what he had done and the position he'd placed them both in. He went pale and his eyes took on the expression of a startled fawn and his whole body froze. He was afraid to move, lest she realize that he hadn't been unfazed by their close proximity.

Thinking quickly, he cut her off just as she was about to start speaking (no doubt to tell him that he was still on top of her). "Right, that was close. Wellll," he said, standing quickly and turning his back to her in one lightning quick fluid motion. "You'd better change into your street clothes and trainers."

He pulled the curtains he'd wretched apart back together to give her privacy, staying inside with her, but keeping his back to her. She didn't say a word as she went about gathering her clothes, which he appreciated, until he began to hear the rustling of fabric behind him. In the silence, it was easy to imagine exactly what she was doing behind his back: Untying her flimsy hospital gown…sliding it off her shoulders, laying it on the bed…rummaging through her bag for her dark denim skinny jeans…sliding them up her legs and jumping up and down a couple of time, swiveling her hips to get them up those last few inches so they'll rest snugly against her hips and buttoning them…reaching back into her bag for her blouse…

"Soooo," the Doctor said loudly. He was afraid if he didn't find a distraction he'd choke on his own saliva.

If anything had come across the Doctor just then they'd turn tail and run away as fast as possible, in terror. It was all he could do to speak gruffly, his self-control was in such shreds at Rose's feet. He was staring daggers at the drapes before him, his pupils so dilated it was nearly impossible to tell if there was any white in his eyes. There was a trickled of sweat on his brow, and he was using every ounce of will he had left to remain turned away from her, and to stop from adjusting himself—that would not help him right now.

He took deep breaths until he felt like he was back in control of himself, sending a _'Thank Rassilon'_ to the universe that he was a Time Lord and not a human with uncontrollable hormones. The tension left his shoulders and his eyes returned to normal. He wiped his forehead with his shirtsleeve.

"Sooo," she replied a second later. "You can turn around now Doctor, I'm dressed."

He turned around and came face to bum. Rose was indeed dressed. She was also bent over sliding on her remaining shoe, the yellow high tops he'd surprised her with last week.

He flushed red, but now he wasn't riding an adrenaline high. He was in control of himself and quickly reasserted control over his body before she could finish slipping her shoe on and turn around.

"Okay, ready?" He asked once she was facing him. She answered with a happy nod.

**##############################################################################**

"It's real. It's really real. Hold on!" The Doctor hears the familiar voice of the medical student that had attended Rose during morning rounds.

"Don't! We'll lose all the air!"

"But they're not exactly air tight." Miss Jones says again. "If the air was going to get sucked out it would have happened straight away, but it didn't. So how come?"

The Doctor gave Rose, who had also paused to listen to the medical student, a cheeky grin, then shoved the drapes out of the way with a dramatic flourish. From the corner of his eye he saw his Rose roll her eyes at his theatrics. _'Is it my fault that I like to make an entrance?'_

"Very good point! Brilliant, in fact. What was your name?"

"Martha."

"And it was Jones, wasn't it?" The woman nods. "Well then, Martha Jones, the question is, how are we still breathing?"

"We can't be!"

"Obviously we are so don't waste my time." He dismisses the panicking girl. "Martha, what have we got? Is there a balcony on this floor, or a veranda, or...?"

"By the patients' lounge, yeah."

"Fancy going out?"

"Okay."

"We might die."

"We might not."

"Good! C'mon. Not her, she'd hold us up," he tells the girls, pointing at the crying medical student being embraced and whispered to by Rose.

Neither of the two paid him any attention, which he realized once he reached the doors and turned to see that while Martha had faithfully followed him, Rose was still talking quietly to a now seemingly placated and nodding Swales.

"Rose?! Are you coming?"

The blonde gave one last quick squeeze to the other girl's upper arm and caught up with him.

"We're on a bit of a time crunch here, you know. You're wasting time," he chastised sulkily.

She turned and hissed at him as they continued on. "This is impossible just as outside her realm of possibility as a box bigger on the inside was for me on the day we met, or as impossible as orbiting around a black hole was to you a couple months ago."

That brought him up short. He was doing what he'd recently criticized Donna for doing, only thinking of the little picture—the immediate problem—the hospital is on the moon. But this situation had caused backlash that would need to be dealt with too. Mass panic. Hysteria.

Not to mention he was being rude again. "You're right," he said, suitably chastised. "Sorry."

She smiled at him and took his hand as they reached the double doors of the patients' balcony. They shared a look that seemed to say, "Are you ready?"

And together they pushed open the doors.


	8. That's One Small Step for Man

**Author's Note: Thanks for all your support. Make sure you tell your friends, and please continue to tell me what you think.**

**Also, a special thanks to the guest reviewer, BadWolf9653 that told me this was the best season three with Rose fanfic she's ever read…seriously, that's just so nice of you and I can't tell you how happy it made me to hear it. And two more special thank-you's to MirrorFlower and DarkWind and Delta Marauder, who are faithful and supportive reviewers! I'm always happy to hear from you!**

**:)**

**##############################################################################**

_She smiled at him and took his hand as they reached the double doors of the patients' balcony. They shared a look that seemed to say, "Are you ready?"_

_ And together they pushed open the doors._

##############################################################################

The Doctor and Rose each took hesitant steps onto the balcony, then stopped and let out their breaths, the Doctor's face took on a look of curiosity, and Rose began chuckling at the novelty of breathing on the moon.

"We've got air!" said a voice behind them where Martha Jones stood, momentarily forgotten. The stuff of legends both jumped at the unexpected comment. She had yet to stray from the threshold. "How does that work?"

"Just be glad it does," the Doctor told her as she finally came to take her place beside him.

"I've got a party tonight. It's my brother's twenty-first. My mother's going to be really... really…"

"You okay?" He asked her.

Rose had wandered off slightly, but was still within his line of sight, inspecting the balcony. He maintained visibility of her at all times to be sure it stayed that way.

"Yeah."

"Sure?"

"Yeah."

He like this Martha Jones. She was like his Rose when they'd first met. Shock didn't create panic for her, instead she accepted her current reality, responding with single words. Her repeated "Yeah" reminded him of the blonde girl currently reaching her torso and arms too far out over the balcony, trying to feel for something none of them could see. A force field, he knew, but she was still going to give him a hearts attack if she didn't stop.

"Rose." He hissed under his breath. Martha was too enraptured by the view to even notice, but Rose shot him a startled glance, which crumbled quickly into a grimace when she realized what he wanted, before she ultimately decided to concede. She slowly pulled her body back to the safety of the balcony while he went on speaking to Martha as if his attention had never lapsed and the last two seconds hadn't happened.

"Want to go back in?"

"No way. I mean, we could die any minute, but all the same—it's beautiful."

'_Good answer Martha Jones!_' "You think?"

"How many people want to go to the moon? And here we are!" She shifted closer to him unconsciously, and he put his weight on his other leg to inconspicuously regain space between them.

"Standing in the earthlight," he mused. Rose gave a low "Ha!" as she bent down and nabbed something off the ground and made her way back over to him.

"What do you think happened," asked Martha.

"What do you think," Rose countered as she took her place at the Doctor's other side. She tipped her head at an angle in appraisal of the woman before her. She'd seen the Doctor test other beings all throughout the universe and overtime she had developed her own ideas on what made a good companion.

"Extraterrestrial," she said to Rose with her head held high, defiantly, but not condescendingly, and Rose smiled at her answer—even though she noticed Martha's eyes darting unconsciously to the Doctor for his reaction. By the end of her address, Martha's attention was once again solely on the Doctor. "It's got to be. I don't know, a few years ago that would have sounded man, but these days? That spaceship flying into Big Ben—Christmas—those Cybermen things... I had a cousin… Adeola. She worked at Canary Wharf. She never came home."

At the mention of Canary Wharf the Doctor's face went white. Even his freckles didn't dare retain their color. Rose had gotten closure and embraced her fate was the one composed enough to reply. "I'm sorry."

"Yeah."

"I was there," the Doctor whispered. "In the battle."

"I promise you, Mr. Smith," she tried to reassure the suddenly deflated man before her. "We will find a way out. If we can travel to the moon, then we can travel back. There's got to be a way."

"It's not Smith, that's not my—not our real name," he said.

"Who are you, then?"

"I'm the Doctor."

"And I'm Rose. Helloo."

"Me too, if I can pass my exams. What is it, then, Doctor Smith?"

"Just the Doctor."

"How do you mean, just the Doctor?"

"Just... the Doctor."

"What, people call him 'the Doctor,'" she asked Rose.

"Sorta, yeah," she smirked.

"Well, I'm not. As far as I'm concerned, you've got to earn that title," she told them firmly.

"Well, I'd better make a start, then."

"Sorry, Doctor," Rose said, showing him the pebble in her open palm. "You'll have to wait your turn. It's my turn to be impressive."

She threw the pebble out over the balcony as far as she could, and all three watched as it impacted something in the air, causing ripples to fan out along the sky.

"There must be some sort of force field keeping the air in," the Doctor said, mostly to himself, Rose had figured as much the second Martha had opened a window on the moon.

"If that's like a bubble sealing us in, that means this is the only air we've got. What happens when it runs out," asked Martha.

"How many people in this hospital?"

"Gotta be at least a thousand," Rose spoke up and Martha nodded in agreement.

"One thousand people. Suffocating."

Martha gasped. "Why would anyone do that?"

"Head's up!" he said. "Ask them yourself."

##############################################################################

"Aliens," Martha said in awe from her place beside Rose. "That's aliens. Real, proper aliens."

"Doctor!" Rose gasped and grabbed onto his arm with one hand, still watching the ships land. "Those are Judoon."

He nodded his head and ushered Rose and Martha back inside.

"What are they doing here? You said Earth was a Level 5 planet and they can't interact with humans. You said—"

"I know. That's why were on the Moon. Neutral territory."

"Well, they had to land on Earth to set up the transmat _thing_ to get us here in the first place."

He nodded his head and made a face, muttering "plasma coils;" she suspected he hadn't considered that, but the fact remained that they were trapped on the moon without the TARDIS, with little time to save everyone in the building, and with no idea what they were saving them from.

Rose had begun to pride herself recently on her ability to distinguish the time and place and force herself to focus on the task at hand. Just as she'd known when the Doctor had warned her away from the balcony edge that he'd sooner relinquish his tight hold on her well-being if he knew he could count on her to listen when it counted, she knew her questioning on universal laws could wait.

##############################################################################

_'I want to wake up now,'_ Martha Jones decided as she and the married couple—the not-Smith's—reached the second floor mezzanine and crouched behind some plants to watch the gigantic rhino-like aliens shine a blue light from a gun-like instrument onto the face of one of her peers.

She was too absorbed in the action to catch many words, but she heard "language assimilated," "Category: human," and "Catalogue all suspects," pretty clearly. Were they being rounded up?! A black "X" was drawn in marker on Morgenstern's hand and the aliens spread out to catalogue the rest of the terrified people.

Martha had promised the man beside her that they'd be okay, but how were they going to be okay when just below them were potentially hostile aliens rounding them up and cataloguing them?

"Oh, look down there," said the man to his wife in a carefree inflection. _'Although you lied about your name, maybe you lied about your wife too. Maybe you're involved in all this.'_ Martha stopped herself, she was being ridiculous. "They've got a little shop. I like a little shop."

"Oh, yeah!" The blonde said happily; her eyes lit up and her tongue poked out the side of her mouth— like a puppy, Martha thought, and wasn't sure whether she liked it. This girl with the South London dialect and bad dye job, who couldn't be older than twenty, was married to 'the Doctor?' _'Lucky.'_

"Never mind that!" She said, as much to herself as her company. "What are Judoon?"

"Galactic police. Well, police for hire. More like interplanetary thugs."

That drew her up short. "And they brought us to the moon?"

"Neutral territory. According to galactic law, they've got no jurisdiction over the Earth, and they isolated us. That rain? Lightning? That was them, using an H2O scoop."

That drew her up shorter. Rose was beside him, nodding like that had made perfect sense. Maybe she wasn't so lucky. Maybe this 'Doctor' is as crazy as he is good-looking. "What's that about 'galactic law'? Where'd you get that from? If they're police, are we under arrest? Are we trespassing on the moon or something?"

Rose snorted in amusement.

"No. But I like that. Good thinking," he said like a teacher giving praise. "No, it's more simple. They're making a catalogue, it means they're after something non-human, which is very bad news for me."

"Why?"

The couple looked at her in confusion.

"Oh, you're kidding me."

Rose shook her head and he raises an eyebrow. Martha ignores the blush fanning her cheeks from having his intense eyes directed at her. "Don't be ridiculous," she says a little bit too harshly. "Stop looking at me like that."

Rose sighs and the Doctor says, "Come on, then."

He takes off abruptly, without looking back.

##############################################################################

It doesn't take very long for the Doctor to find a room with a computer he can use. Rose catches up to him just as he's pulling out his sonic screwdriver, and Martha brings up the rear as he begins performing his search on the hard drive.

"They've reached third floor," she heaves. "What's that thing?"

"Sonic screwdriver," says Rose, though Martha had been solely addressing the Doctor again.

She scoffs. "Well, if you're not going to answer me properly!"

"No, it is! It's a screwdriver, and it's sonic." She holds up the Doctor's sonicing hand by the wrist, interrupting him from his task and eliciting a frustrated "Hey" out of him "Look."

"What else have you got," she inquires. "A laser spanner?"

"I did, but it was stolen by Emily Pankhurst," He says sarcastically, muttering. "Cheeky women," as he works.

He grows frustrated after a while of near silence, only the buzz of the sonic and the occasional white noise from the crowd outside their room to break up the lack of sound. Than without warning he begins banging on the computer savagely, pointedly ignoring Rose's long-suffering sigh and accompanying eye roll—she doesn't believe in the benefits of percussion maintenance. _'Her loss.'_

"Oh, this computer! The Judoon must have locked it down… Judoon platoon upon the moon... Cause we were just travelling past, I swear, Martha, just wandering! We weren't looking for trouble. But then Rose noticed the plasma coils around the hospital… and that lightning—that's plasma coils, been building up for two days now, so we checked her in… had to make up fake identities because she's technically dead… said we were married so I could stay and investigate. I thought something was going on inside, it turns out the plasma coils were the Judoon up above!"

The Doctor sucked in a deep breath, readying himself for another round of talking, as was this body's habit when he was stressed or bored, but seeing Rose's bemused smile and Martha's eyes, glazed over as they were, made him rethink it.

"But what are they looking for," Martha asked him.

"Something that looks human, but isn't."

'_And therein lies a very big, very not good problem.'_ Because if it was a nonhuman they were looking for, any alien in this hospital is in danger, including the Doctor. And while the Doctor wouldn't usually spare a nanometer of concern over that fact, Rose might be in danger as well.

He hadn't said anything to her about it. He didn't know how to—he didn't know if he was even going to, but he probably should…_'Did she already know?... Nah, she couldn't.'_ He'd gone investigating last night and left her to get some sleep. The first time he'd returned to check on her she'd appeared to be in the middle of a REM cycle; he'd backed out and gone off to skulk around the hospital some more.

The second time he'd come back, he'd quietly pushed the drapes aside and almost shrilled like Mickey, in shock. She'd been _gold_. Wellll, not literally. It seemed to be emanating from her, like the blood in her veins was a shiny pure gold, flowing through her body, being pumped by her heart. Behind her closed eyelids, where eyelashes met skin, a small bit of golden light escaped. And right before his eyes she exhaled a puff of it from her mouth—like regeneration energy, but somehow different.

Humans could not do that. They couldn't glow gold. Time Lords couldn't either. In fact, he couldn't think a single species in the universe that to his knowledge could.

Eventually he remembered he needed to breathe… and he regretted it instantly, for two reasons. The smell of pure time energy was clinging to her like expensive perfume, custom made to match her body chemistry becomingly. How could he have never noticed it before? It was like time was dancing with her and in the air around her. And even worse, it had been _intoxicating_. He'd stood there, stunned, like an idiot, for an undistinguishable amount of time—his time sense entirely forgotten—just breathing it in; it was the most alluring, wonderful smell—it was incomparable. Better than Jackie's tea, better than bananas or jelly babies.

And all of it terrified him. He turned tail and ran back the way he'd come, colliding with a nurse on his way and grabbing her upper arms to keep the poor woman upright. She must have noticed how pale he was; she'd asked him if he was alright, but he had been very far from alright. He'd muttered a quick 'sorry' and said some nonsense about going to get tea and a banana, and he'd continued his aimless run in any direction, so long as it got him away from there. He'd ended up pacing up and down the hallway just outside a nearby waiting room. And when he got the courage to check on her again fifteen minutes later, realizing what might happen if someone else found her in that state, all evidence of it had been gone.

Now the Judoon were hunting an alien. According to the TARDIS, Rose's DNA was still human, but that had been when she wasn't lit up like someone with string lights coiled through their veins. Before that she'd never smelled so strongly of the vortex—would she still register human? He could not take that chance. And how could he tell her? '_He can't. Coward, every time.'_

"Like you... Apparently," her eyes had narrowed at him slightly.

"Like me. But not me," he assured her.

"Haven't they got a photo?"

"Might be a shape-changer."

"Or a Slitheen," said Rose.

Martha cast her a confused look. "Whatever it is, can't you just leave the Judoon to find it?"

"Nopee," said Rose.

The Doctor nodded. "If they declare the hospital guilty of harboring a fugitive, they'll sentence it to execution."

"_All of us_," she asked him.

"Oh yes. If I can find this thing first... Oh! Just that they're thick! Judoon are thick! They are completely thick! They wiped the records. Oh, that's clever."

"Doctor," Rose said sharply to draw his attention. "What are you looking for? We can help."

He took a deep breath. "I don't know. Any patient admitted in the past week with unusual symptoms…. Maybe there's a back-up."

"I'll go ask Mr. Stoker, he might know," Martha said.

Rose would intend to follow Martha, the Doctor knew. She would figure that she couldn't help the Doctor with anything technology related and may even be in the way, and she'd decide she could do more good with the medical student. She may even try to eavesdrop on some unsuspecting Judoon—try to find out what species, or at least some characteristics of what they were looking for.

As he expected, she began to turn on the heel of her foot, opening her mouth to tell Martha to wait up, but he'd anticipated her actions before she'd even solidified her plans, and before she'd pivoted more than half way the Doctor had grabbed onto her wrist too tightly and yanked her back.

The quick change in direction made her body jerk back into him, causing her to almost, but thankfully not, roll her ankle. He righter her quickly but kept his tight grip on her arm. She looked up at him, no doubt intending to yell at him for the harsh treatment she was unused to receiving from him, but something in his expression stopped her short.

He looked as feral as he felt. He wouldn't allow any arguing or protesting from her and it showed on his face. When it came to Rose's protection, there was no telling how he'd react or what he'd resort to, to ensure her safety.

"Do not even think about it," he growled quietly, dropping his tight clasp on her wrist and going back to fiddling with the computer and his sonic as if he hadn't just acting completely out of character.

She studied him hesitantly for a moment before ultimately deciding that for whatever reason, he felt it necessary that she stay with him. She trusted him, after all. Still, as she rubbed her right wrist and watched light bruises form on her pale skin, she couldn't help but mutter a quick, "Yes, sir, Sarge," under her breath.

The Doctor's lips quirked up involuntarily. _'That's my Lewis,'_ he thought.

##############################################################################

By the time the Doctor had restored the back-up, the terse silence between them had dissipated into a companionable one.

"Aha! I restored the back up!" He held out his hand to her, wiggling his fingers in his usual fashion. "Let's go find Martha."

"Do you like her," Rose asked.

"She's smart," he said hesitantly. And it was true, Martha was very smart. She also liked helping people—Rose supposed she'd have to like helping people to want to be a doctor—but she seemed to have decided, albeit rightfully, that the Doctor was the undisputed leader of their duo, and she exhausted very little energy acknowledging Rose existed.

Rose chastised herself for caring about that when the lives of everyone in the hospital were at stake. Of course Martha was focused on the Doctor—they were in the middle of a crisis and he was the man with the answers. She should be as focused as Martha is, she couldn't afford to lose focus and become self-conscious at a time like this.

"Yeah, she is," Rose said. "I think I like her."

Just as they had begun jogging down the hall, Martha came barreling into them, landing right in the Doctor's arms; he righted her immediately and stepped back.

"Good timing," Rose told her at the same time as the Doctor said, "I've restored the back-up."

"I found her."

"You what," they said simultaneously. The Doctor lifted his eyes to the slap running toward them, and reacting instinctually, took Martha's hand in the one not currently clasping Rose's, shouting. "Run!"

A short run through the hospital eventually found the trio backed into a corner, with slabs on one side and Judoon on the other, they make their way into the radiology room and closed the door behind them. The Doctor ushered them into the back room and closed it, with himself still on the side housing the x-ray machinery. "When I say 'now', press the button," he ordered Martha.

"I don't know which one!" She told him incredulously.

"Find out!" he shouted, and began using his sonic on the x-ray machine while Martha grabbed the Operator's Manual and began skimming desperately through it.

The slab broke down the door and had begun making its way toward the Doctor, who yelled to Martha, "Now!"

Martha, however, had yet to find what she's looking for and didn't want to press the wrong thing.

Finally, she decides to press a random button, choosing the giant yellow one, just a second after Rose, who had grown impatient waiting on the medical student and decided to take matters into her own hands.

Suddenly the room with the Doctor and the slab lit up and when it's over the slab is on the floor, sizzling.

"What did I just do, Doctor?" Rose asks calmly, walking to the door and throwing it open so she can inspect the damage.

"I increased the radiation by five thousand per cent. It killed him dead."

Rose goes pale, looking at the slab, dead on the floor, then looking the Doctor up and down, expecting him to burst into golden light any moment. It's Martha who finally speaks up. "Isn't that likely to kill you?"

"Nah, it's only radiation. We used to play with roentgen bricks in the nursery. It's safe for you to come out," he tells Martha, who is still in the other room. "I've absorbed it all. All I need to do is expel it. If I concentrate, I can shake the radiation out of my body and into one spot. It's in my left shoe. Here we go, here we go, easy does it...Out, out, out, out, out. Out, out, ah, ah, ah, ah. It is, it is, it is, it is, it is hot. Ah - hold on."

Rose had begun laughing as soon as the Doctor had started jumping up and down. When he started shakes his shoe and making faces she'd bent forward, clutching her sides in amused peals of laughter. She didn't right herself until almost a full minute after he'd ripped off his shoe and tossed it in the waste bin in a show of finality.

"You're completely mad," Martha said staring at him open-mouthed.

"Right. I look daft with one shoe… Barefoot on the moon!" He says, shucking the other in the bin after the first and wiggling his toes.

Rose had to fight to keep from laughing again.

Martha had a lot of questions, and began to ask him in rapid fire what the slabs were while simultaneously explaining to the Doctor about Mrs. Finnegan. He stopped listening once he realized his sonic screwdriver had been thoroughly fried, and unable to find any sympathy from Martha, he turned back to Rose, who had been standing there feeling slightly forgotten. She rubbed his shoulders empathetically.

Thanks to Martha, the Doctor was finally able to piece together what kind of alien they were looking for. An internal shape shifter could blend into any environment of humanoids perfectly, so long as it was able to keep assimilating that species' blood. Unfortunately, in order to do that, Mrs. Finnegan would need a well-stocked blood bank, or a live donor. And unfortunately for Mr. Stoker, she'd chosen the latter.

##############################################################################

As they trio crept through the hospital, where the air was becoming increasingly thin, they spotted a second slab. "That's the thing about Slabs. They always travel in pairs."

"What about you," asked Martha, she'd been increasingly curious about the relationship between the Doctor and his blonde companion and decided this was as good of an opening as she could ask for in the circumstances. It wasn't that Rose wasn't nice, but she didn't understand how the two had formed their strange relationship, or friendship, or partnership, or whatever it was. They were worlds apart, plus she looked to be at least twelve years his junior.

"What about me what," the Doctor asked her.

"Haven't you got back-up," she prodded. "You must have a partner or something?"

Rose frowned, looking distinctly hurt that Martha seemed to dismiss her so, and Martha almost felt bad for the young girl. After all, whoever this Doctor really was, it was obvious that he was just as out of Martha's league as he was Rose's. Eons, even.

And if the Doctor's eyes flashed in irritation at Martha's dismissal of Rose, neither of the women noticed. "Rose is my plus one. She's all the back-up I need," he said firmly, and had the pleasure of seeing the small, radiant smile bloom quietly over her face. "Uh. Humans," he continued in the less serious manner that was typical to him. "We're stuck on the moon, running out of air, with Judoon… and a bloodsucking criminal, and you're asking personal questions."

He gave her a look that seemed to say, "I'm disappointed," but Martha looked unrepentant, so with a shake of his head he murmured, "Come on."

"I like that. 'Humans.' I'm still not convinced you're an alien."

Just then they rounded the corner and Rose and the Doctor came face-to-face with a Judoon's scanner. In Rose's panic to get the Doctor away from the Judoon, she failed to realize the scanner had been aimed at her.

"Non-human," said the Judoon.

##############################################################################

The Doctor's mind cleared of all thoughts, but one. Get Rose safe. The Judoon's voice seemed to echo repetitively through his head as he pushed her in the other direction and they sprinted down another hall. He was careful to keep her body directly in front of his, to keep her out of the line of fire of the Judoon's shooting. "Non-human…. Non-human…. Non-human…."

Luckily for him, Martha had also failed to realize where exactly the scanner had been pointed. "Oh my God, you really are!"

Running up the stairs and into a hallway crowded with medical personnel and patients with oxygen masks being held to their faces, Rose noticed something and slowed down, breaking away from him. The Doctor just stopped himself from forcefully grabbing onto her wrist again to stop her—he was even more panicked now that he knew his fears had been validated, _'She scanned non-human. I can't believe she actually scanned non-human.'_

He noticed the crying medical student from before and realized she wasn't wandering off. He'd also seen the bruises his fingers had pressed into her skin and didn't want to make them worse. This wasn't the first time he'd done it. Time Lords were so much stronger than humans, their skin and bones were much denser. In moments of high stress—like when she woke him from a nightmare, or when he feared for her life—he knew he sometimes grabbed her too roughly, held her too tight. It disgusted him that he had been the source of her pain even once. It disgusted him more that a small part of him thrived on the power he had over her.

He was capable of hurting her, physically and emotionally. He never wanted to and would never try to purposefully, he adored her petulance and loved watching her exert her free will to make change—she was incredible—, but the fact that it would be so easy, and she trusted him not to gives him a strange thrill.

"They've done this floor," he said, following after Rose and Martha toward the medical student, Swales. "Come on. The Judoon are logical and just a little bit thick. They won't go back to check a floor they've checked already… if we're lucky."

Rose stoops down to sit companionably by Swales, who shoots her a relieved smile, like two are old friends reuniting. Martha frowns at this and asks, "How much oxygen is there?"

"Not enough for all these people. We're going to run out."

"How are you feeling? Are you all right," the Doctor asks Martha; she's more out of breath than Rose, though both are breathing heavily. Rose is rubbing comforting circles on Swales arm and shoulder, and the two are speaking quietly.

"I'm running on adrenaline," Martha says, bringing his attention back to her.

He chuckles. "Welcome to my world."

"What about the Judoon," she asks.

"Ah, great big lung reserves, it won't slow them down. Where's Mr. Stoker's office?"

"It's this way," she says and walks off, not looking back to see whether the Doctor and Rose are following.

"Come on, Rose," the Doctor says, holding his hand out to help her up.

She looks up at him and takes his hand, but when he tries to pull her away she resists, turning back to Swales, she says, "You'll be okay."

Swales looks up at her and smiles, content showing even through her obvious worry. "I know."


	9. Three's Company Too

**Author's Note: Here we are! The wrap up of 'The Smith's and Jones'; I hope everyone enjoyed it. I've loved your comments!**

**A really quick special thank-you to **_**tenthdoctor10**_**, who wished me well when I had pneumonia over the last few weeks. And to **_**Ashena-Iulik**_**, who let me bounce ideas and opinions off of her, and has promised to let me do so in the future. Thank-you both!**

**And without further ado…**

**##############################################################################**

"_Come on, Rose," the Doctor says, holding his hand out to help her up._

_She looks up at him and takes his hand, but when he tries to pull her away she resists, turning back to Swales, she says, "You'll be okay."_

_Swales looks up at her and smiles, content showing even through her obvious worry. "I know."_

##############################################################################

When Martha, Rose, and the Doctor reach Mr. Stoker's office, Martha and Rose both fighting for breath, Mrs. Finnegan and her slabs were nowhere to be found, and lying on the floor in the prone position, his eyes glazed and dead is Mr. Stoker.

The Doctor immediately drops Rose's hand to inspect the body. While he looks Mr. Stoker over, Rose stumbles up to him and drops ungracefully to her knees; reaching out a hand, she gently closes the man's unseeing eyes.

"Drained him dry," says the Doctor once he's finished his examination. "Every last drop. I was right. She's a plasmavore."

Martha had been watching the proceedings, she had also been thinking that someone should close the man's eyes. She gives the blonde a warm smile, though Rose doesn't notice. Finally, Martha turns to the Doctor. "What was she doing on Earth?"

"Hiding," he tells her. "On the run. Like Ronald Biggs in Rio de Janeiro. What's she doing now? She's still not safe—the Judoon could execute us all. Come on."

He leads them aimlessly down another hall as he tries to think, engaging his respiratory bypass automatically when he begins to breathe heavily. Behind him, the humans heave as they try to keep up with his long strides. "Think, think, think. If I was a plasmavore surrounded by police, what would I do? AH!" He exclaims, noticing an MRI sign. "She's as clever as me… almost."

Somewhere very near them come the heavy thuds of feet and the sound of Judoon speaking. "Find the non-human. Execute."

All three faces go pale for different reasons. Martha knows if they find the Doctor then there is no for this hospital; Rose and the Doctor are thinking only of each other.

"Stay here," he orders Martha, knowing she's their only option for a distraction. He begins to pace back and forth for a few quick seconds before coming to a decision. He looks intently at the medical student. "I need time. You're going to have to hold them up."

"How do I do that?"

"Martha, forgive me for this," he begs, looking her in the eye, but really begging Rose. "It's to save a thousand lives, it means nothing. Honestly, nothing."

He grabs her face in both hands and kisses her hard on the lips, making sure to leave behind enough DNA to alert the Judoon's scanners. Her lips are soft, he decides. Rose has soft lips too, and hers were more pliant…then again she'd really been Cassandra at the time. He pulls away with a 'pop' and grabs Rose's hand where it hung at the side of her motionless body, and together they run down the hall toward the MRI room.

Behind them, both can hear Martha's quick intake of the hospital's thinning air, and her disbelieving sigh, followed by, "That was nothing?"

##############################################################################

They stop just outside of the MRI room and listen to the strange noises coming from within. Rose can barely hear over the humming in her own ears. Her chest is heaving ineffectually for just a little bit more oxygen and she allows her body to slump against the nearest wall; she can't seem to make her eyes focus.

Taking a quick peak inside the room, the Doctor turns to her and says, "Please, stay here. I'll come get to you soon."

Rose opened her mouth to protest, but stopped herself short. _'What am I supposed to say? No, I'm coming with you so you don't die? What if you don't come back…maybe you'll just take Martha and leave me here? No, I can't say that; it makes no sense. It's the oxygen starvation. I'm useless.'_ Her half-formed worrying lasts only a few seconds before she realizes that right now she's a liability, she nods her head in acquiescence.

He gives a relieved sigh, and marches into the room.

For a while, Rose does as he asks and tries to keep her breathing from becoming panicked as she leans against the wall. The last thing she needs is to start hyperventilating in a building where no breathable air is to be had.

Then she hears the heavy thuds of the Judoon marching her way, and she knows she has to warn the Doctor. Forcing herself upright, she sweeps her way into the room to warn him, and lets out a startled gasp at what she finds.

##############################################################################

The Doctor throws the doors to the MRI room open and steps in, pretending to breathe heavily like the rest of the humans in the hospital, he sees the plasmavore and walks right up to her, though half of his concentration was with the woman on the other side of the door.

"Have you seen—there are these things… those great big space rhino things… I mean rhinos from space. And we're on the moon. Great big space rhinos, with guns, on the moon. And I only came in for my bunions. They're all right now, perfectly good treatment, I said to my wife, I'd recommend this place to anyone, but then we end up on the moon. And did I mention the rhinos?"

"Hold him!" The plasmavore instructs her slabs and they grab hold of the Doctor. Then Florence Finnegan goes back to fiddling with MRI machine.

"That thing," asks the Doctor. "That big machine thing, is it supposed to be making that noise?"

She shoots him a condescending sneer. "You wouldn't understand."

'_I suppose she needs a little more prodding than your usual megalomaniac.' _"Isn't that a magnetic resonance imaging thing? Like a ginormous sort of a magnet? I did magnets at GCSE. Well, I failed, but all the same."

"The magnetic setting is now set to 50,000 Tesla."

'_Damn._' "Ooh. That's a bit strong, isn't it?"

She nods. "I can send out a magnetic pulse that will fry the brain-stems of every living thing within 250,000 miles. Except me, safe in this room."

"But... hold on, hold on, I did geography for GCSE, I did pass that one, doesn't that distance include Earth?" He inquires pointedly.

"Only the side facing the moon. The other half will survive. Call it my little gift."

"I'm sorry, you'll have to forgive me, I'm a little out of my depth. I've spent the past fifteen years working as a postman, hence the bunions—why would you do that?"

"With everyone dead," she tells John Smith, the postman, "the Judoon ships will be mine, to make my escape."

"Now, that's weird. You're talking like you're some sort of an alien."

"Right-o."

"No!" Says the Doctor with an exaggerated shake of the head.

"Oh, yes."

"You're joshing me."

She gives him a confused shake of the head. "I am not."

"I'm talking to an alien? In hospital? What, has the place got an ET department?"

"It's the perfect hiding place. Blood banks downstairs for a midnight feast, and all this equipment I'm ready to arm myself with should the police come looking."

"So, those rhinos, they're looking for you?"

"Yes. But I'm hidden," she tells him, indicating the 'X' on the back of her hand. _'I guess I'll have to improvise…'_

"Oh. Right! Maybe that's why they're increasing their scans…"

"They're doing what?"

"Big chief rhino boy, he said, no sign of a non-human… we must increase our scans... up to setting two?"

"Then I must assimilate again."

"What does that mean?" He cocks his head inquisitively.

"I must appear to be human."

"Well, you're welcome to come home and meet the wife." He imagines bringing a plasmavore round the TARDIS for dinner and barks out a real laugh. "She'd be honored. We can have cake."

"Why should I have cake when I've got my little straw," she gives her straw a little shake.

"That's nice. Milkshake? I like banana."

"You're quite the funny man. And yet, I think, laughing on purpose at the darkness. I think it's time you found some peace. Steady him!"

"What are you doing?"

"I'm afraid this is going to hurt," she teases. "But if it's any consolation, the dead don't tend to remember."

Just as the Doctor is beginning to feel woozy, the MRI door gives a squeak, informing the room's occupants of someone's entrance. If that hadn't been enough, Rose gasps loudly at the scene she had just walked in on.

"Hello, sweetheart. What're you doing here?" He ground out in a slur. If he wasn't so lightheaded right now, he'd be very put out with her. The Plasmavore just goes on drinking his blood.

"ME!" she shrilled. "Me! What the hell, Doct—"

The doors slam open again, and in charge a horde of Judoon and an exhausted Martha. Rose was stuck against the wall behind the rest of the assembly now, judging it impossible to navigate her way through the tightly packed Judoon; the Doctor watched her through heavy, unfocused eyes as she slid down the wall to the floor.

Florence was forced to stop drinking his blood and ripped the straw forcefully out of his neck. The Doctor collapsed to the floor, losing consciousness on the way.

##############################################################################

"Now see what you've done. This poor man just died of fright."

"Scan him! Confirmation: deceased," intoned the chief Judoon.

Behind the group, no one heard Rose's panicked gasp, or saw her eyes fling themselves open. She struggled to push her body off the floor so she could make her way over to her Doctor.

Martha, who was already fighting unconsciousness from asphyxia, felt her breathing ratchet up further. "No, he can't be. Let me through, let me see him."

"Stop." The Judoon told the struggling human. "Case closed."

"But it was her. She killed him. She did it. She murdered him."

"The Judoon have no authority over human crime."

"But she's not human," said Martha.

"Oh, but I am. I've been catalogued."

"But she's not! She assimil—Wait a minute. You drank his blood. The Doctor's blood," Martha realized, and grabbed the scanner from the Judoon's hand, pointing it and activating it at the unbothered woman.

"Oh, all right. Scan all you like," she opened her arms out wide.

"Non-human."

The smirk dropped immediately from her face. "What?"

"Confirm analysis," said the Judoon.

The Plasmavore tried to claim it was a mistake, but Martha just shook her head sadly, "He gave his life so they'd find you."

By now Rose had managed a wide arc around the walls of the room since pushing through the Judoon still wasn't a viable option. With a final burst of energy she pushed herself off the wall and took the few clumsy steps necessary to reach the Doctor where he lay, stumbling to the floor beside him.

Around her the Judoon and the Plasmavore continued speaking but she hears none of it. There is no air left to breath in, and only through force of will and adrenalin is she still conscious at all. She doesn't feel a pulse, but her own heartrate is so high with panic, she could easily have missed it. _'Maybe he's in a healing coma.'_  
><strong><br>**Rose looks up briefly when she sees a flash of light, eyes coming to rest on the source just in time to see a slab disintegrated by a Judoon. "Verdict: guilty. Sentence: execution."

Her eyes land despairingly on Martha, but then her attention is again diverted up a sign lighting up the words, "MAGNETIC OVERLOAD."

"Enjoy your victory, Judoon, because you're going to burn with me. Burn in hell!" Screams the Plasmavore for the last time, and the Judoon disintegrate her.

Martha rushes over to the Rose and the Doctor, but when the Judoon says case closed she turns back, confused. Her tone seemed to suggest the case was most certainly not closed. "What did she mean, "burn with me"? The scanner shouldn't be doing that. She's done something."

"Scans detect lethal acceleration of monomagnetic pulse."

"Well, do something! Stop it!"

"Our jurisdiction has ended. Judoon will evacuate."

"You can't just leave it. What's it going to do?"

"All units withdraw," said the Chief Judoon into his com-link, and all began to evacuate.

Martha continued to yell after them, "You can't go. That thing's going to explode and it's all your fault."

Rose had stopped paying attention to the room at large moments before. She had dealt with the Judoon before, and the moment their leader had announced their jurisdictions' end, she'd known their only hope had been with the Doctor.

She'd started CPR on him immediately, and once Martha had watched the Judoon go she has joined Rose at his other side and begun to keep count for her.

"One two three four five. One two three four— five. Why are you doing it like that? His heart is there," she said, indicating the area of his chest under Rose's right hand and panting harshly. "One two— three four five. One two three four five."

"Two…" Rose grunted. "Hearts."

The Doctor begins to cough just as Martha finally falls to the ground, unconscious.

##############################################################################

His first instinct had been to take deep breaths. It had been the wrong thing to do. There was no air left in the hospital, and the lack of it made the newly conscious Doctor begin coughing and panicking.

Once he realized where he was and what was happening, he engaged his respiratory bypass and began taking stock of the room.

To his right, Martha lay slumped on the floor where she'd fallen, unconscious. He looked up at the shadow to his left, where Rose was looking down on him in relief.

Her breathing was beyond ragged. Her eyes were clouded and unfocused, her body was convulsively shaking from the lack of air. The moment she realized he was alright, her fight for consciousness seemed to fade, and her eyes rolled into the back her head. She collapsed wordlessly to the floor as he stood up.

Forcing himself not to check on her, he makes his way to the MRI machine. The thing looks seconds away from exploding. He feels for his sonic before he remembers he'd left it charred on the radiology room floor, and instead reaches around the machine to the plug on the wall, pulling it out.

He goes back to the two women he left on the floor and checks first Rose's, then Martha's pulses. Finding them both alive, though barely, he picks the blonde up off the floor and carries her out of the room and back down the halls, passing weak and unconscious humans all along the way.

Finally he reaches the balcony doors where their adventure had first started, and he sits down with Rose tucked securely in his lap.

Looking out the glass doors, he watches as the Judoon ships leave. "Come on, come on, come on. Come on, Judoon, reverse it."

When it begins to rain, he smiles and gives a relieved, manic laugh. Looking down at the Rose in his arms, he gives her a quick shake. "It's raining, Rose! It's raining on the moon."

The rush of air that forces its way through the hospital once it's moved back to its rightful place knocks shuffles papers and forms, rips signs from the walls. Much of the equipment and papers left standing or in the open from their trip to the moon, was flung around by the wind caused by air sweeping into a space where there previously wasn't any.

After a few moments of just breathing in Earth's oxygen, the Doctor lifts himself and Rose off the floor and carries them both inconspicuously out of the hospital. Already the scene outside was chaotic; doctors and nurses from different hospitals stood off to the side, waiting for something to do; UNIT had descended in full force, and uniformed men and science officers stood in groups, discussing, strategizing, and theorizing, while other soldiers stretched out across the barricade, keeping the civilian spectators far removed.

He slipped in and out of sight stealthily, and no one paid him any mind, except the pretty medical student who had helped Rose and the Doctor save hundreds of lives.

He takes a moment to adjusts Rose's weight, shifting her easily so that one arm is holding her to his chest without disturbing her, and with his newly freed hand he lifts it into the air and gives her a wave.

A truck drives between them and he uses it as an opportunity to escape unnoticed. By the time the truck has passed, the Doctor, the blonde, and the blue box he had been standing beside were nowhere to be seen.

**##############################################################################**

When she wakes up, Rose knows immediately that she's in her own bed. The content hum of the TARDIS surrounds her.

"You didn't listen to me," the Doctor said bluntly, his voice coming from his usual spot in her plush grey chair.

Rose replied in the same stoic manner as he. "Yeah? Well, you died today."

"Touché."

The two fell quiet.

She hated to admit it, but Rose was reluctant. She didn't think the Doctor felt any attraction to Martha, but she couldn't stop thinking about the kiss. This Doctor wasn't capable of doing anything by halves; _'Why give a peck on the cheek when you could suck a stranger's lower lip into your mouth?'_

But she also had no right to feel possessive or jealous, even if she couldn't stop herself. They weren't like that, the Doctor and Rose. He'd made it clear, and she'd taken every moment since she'd at last gotten the message to adamantly refute any contrary statements.…And Martha Jones was good. She was kind, and brave, and quick under pressure; Rose would be the first to admit that she had a tendency to be petty, but to refuse Martha the chance to see the stars because of her insecurities would be so far beyond the realm of okay. The fact that she briefly considered it made her sick at herself.

No matter what the outcome, Rose finally decided, it wasn't up to her to deny the chance to travel with the Doctor if she had what it took, and she does. Rose just hoped she wouldn't look back on this moment years from now while she folded clothes in a department store, and regret it.

Eventually, she opened her eyes and sat up, reclining back on her elbows. "She's only the second person to ever pass both of our tests," Rose said, and thought about the first—the ex-conman turned friend who they'd shared their lives with before he'd kissed her on the mouth and run off to die a hero's death. She barely heard the Doctor's reply. "Yes, she is."

After another brief silence, the Doctor pushed ahead. "S'pose I could invite her along…Just one trip, mind. To say thanks. We can call it a trial run."

"Yeah," she said too quickly. "Yeah. Sounds good."

"Well, alright then…I'm…just gonna go change then. I'll just leave you to…rest up…" he finished awkwardly and began walking backward towards her open door.

"Kay. See you in a bit," he nodded and turned around to leave. "Oh, and Doctor? I forget to say, I like the new suit."

He turned to look at her and quirked him mouth up on one side, humming along with the old girl all the way to his bedroom.

##############################################################################

Later, Rose and the Doctor were sitting in the console room while he worked on finishing up his new sonic screwdriver and she read a history book on the planet Felspoon, from the years 22-68, which described the long Civil War that had broken out on the planet not long after its colonization.

They'd made peanut butter and banana sandwiches and tea for dinner, and by silent agreement situated themselves on the large jump seat in the console room to enjoy each other's (and the TARDIS's) company.

They had agreed that once he finished his new sonic, they'd run a scan for Martha Jones a few hours after the hospital incident, and ask her along. But Rose had fallen asleep nearly two hours ago, the history book he'd recommended at her request lay pillowed between her and the cushion under her head, and his long coat was draped over her.

Wanting to move on to the next adventure, the Doctor decided to run the search for Miss Jones and ask her himself. He ignored the disapproving hums of his TARDIS and pocketed his sonic.

"Come on, Sexy, just a simple search…You've been grumpy with me ever since I got back today, just tell me what I did so we can move on."

He felt a resounding "no" in his mind, but she performed the scan anyway.

"Thank-you," he said once the TARDIS had finished her search. He piloted her to the new location and stepped out, closing the door quietly behind him and turning to face a dank alley.

Following the alley to its end, the Doctor spots a pub on a nearby street corner. Outside the pub, a heated argument is drawing to its end, and in the center of the altercation, looking decidedly uncomfortable, is Martha Jones.

All at once, the group—which the Doctor assumes by their physical similarities is her family—breaks apart in different directions, leaving a frustrated Martha alone on the street. She seems to feel his eyes on her, because suddenly she looks up at him.

He smiles at her and then disappears back into the alley, knowing she'd follow. And she does. When she turns the last corner he is standing in front of his life-long companion, leaning into her.

He sees her recognition of the blue box he'd earlier disappeared with. "I went to the moon today."

"A bit more peaceful than down here," he jokes.

"You never even told me who you are."

"The Doctor," he says simply.

"What sort of species? It's not every day I get to ask that."

"I'm a Time Lord."

"Right! Not pompous at all, then."

He ignores that, and feels a moment of thanks that Rose isn't here just now to laugh at him like she and Sarah Jane had. "I just thought since you saved my life and I've got a brand new sonic screwdriver which needs road testing, you might fancy a trip."

He wonders why she looks so surprised. "What, into space?"

"Well—"

"I can't," she says sadly. "I've got exams. I've got things to do. I have to go into town first thing and pay the rent, I've got my family going mad..."

"If it helps, I can travel in time, as well."

"Get out of here."

"I can."

"Come on now, that's going too far."

"I'll prove it," he vows, realizing she had seen him this morning on the street. He almost sighed. _'Bloody paradoxes.'_

He redirects the TARDIS, steps out and located the more naïve Martha Jones from this morning talking on her phone as she made her way through the crowd. He stepped right in front of her, removed his tie with a poorly concealed smirk, and said "Like so; See?!" before disappearing into the crowd and piloting the TARDIS back to its previous coordinates.

"Told you!" He said to this Martha Jones.

"I know, but..." she took in his appearance. He could have just walked in and removed it like he had earlier, her sceptic expression seemed to be saying. But then her eyes grew wide and he knew she'd noticed what he'd intended her to when he'd taken his tie off. He was in a different suit now."…that was this morning! But - Did you... Oh, my God! You can travel in time! But hold on, if you could see me this morning, why didn't you tell me not to go in to work?"

"Crossing into established events is strictly forbidden—Except for cheap tricks."

"And that's your spaceship?"

"It's called the TARDIS. Time and Relative Dimension in Space."

"Your spaceship's made of wood. There's not much room. We'd be a bit intimate; by the way, where is Rose? Doesn't she travel with you?" 

"She does; she's inside. Fell asleep," he told her. Sighing when she looked a bit disappointed that it wouldn't be the two of them. _'Trying not to hurt Rose is hard enough without a pining companion._' He thought uncharitably, but he reproached himself immediately. Who knew what Martha had really been thinking in that moment. "Take a look."

He really did love this part, he thought as Martha went in, and ran back out again. He hasn't had the satisfaction of this particular act in quite some time… since Adam, in fact; Jack had taken it all in stride.

"Oh, no, no," she exclaimed as she made her full rotation around the old girl, who herself, was laughing merrily. "But it's just a box. But it's huge. How does it do that? It's wood." She knocks on it, to be sure. "It's like a box with that room just rammed in. It's bigger on the inside."

After playfully mouthing along the sentence with her, with Sexy saying it in his head, he quirks his head to the side and asks, "Is it? I hadn't noticed." He shuts the door loudly, forgetting about Rose on the jump seat. "All right, then, let's get going."

"Goin' where?" croaks a sleepy voice that goes ignored in the excitement.

"But is there a crew? A navigator? Is it really just you and Rose?"

He nods. Noticing Rose sitting curled on the jump seat and watching Martha's string of excited questions with an amused smile on her face, he skips across the room to lean against the seat beside her. Martha follows him with her eyes, and when she sees Rose, gives her a little smile and a wave, which Rose returns. "Hi."

"All on your own?"

"Well, sometimes I have guests… I mean some friends, travelling alongside. And now I have Rose."

"How long have you been traveling with the Doctor?" she asks.

"Umm, 'bout two-and-a-half years, I think. You lose track of time after a while."

"Really, that long? How old are you? Don't you ever miss your family? Or do you visit them often?" Martha asks quickly, hoping she isn't being rude.

"Well, I was nineteen when I met 'im. That'd make a little over twenty-one now, I s'pose. And I do miss my family; we used to visit them all the time, but we can't anymore. They—well, they're gone."

"I'm so sorry; I shouldn't have asked." Martha said. As glad as she was to hear the Doctor say Rose was a "friend" that traveled with him, and that she was so much younger than the Doctor, she felt bad that her prodding questions might have surfaced painful memories.

"No, it's okay," she said. Beside her, the Doctor looked down sadly at the metal grating.

"Just one trip to say 'thanks'." He told her. No reason to get her hopes up if she didn't fit.

"You're the one that kissed me," Martha half-joked.

"That was a genetic transfer," he frowned. Beside him, Rose snorted. Easily mistaking her snort of derision at the Doctor, for amusement, Martha felt no offense when she excused herself from the room to go to sleep in her much more comfortable bed with a quick, "Nice to have you along, Martha! See you in the morning cycle."

She continued to tease, much to the distress of the Doctor, and to the TARDIS, who didn't like to see her Rose upset so. "And if you will wear a tight suit..."

"Now... don't!"

"And then travel all the way across the universe just to ask me on a date..."

"Stop it," he said, and she finally did.

"For the record? I'm not remotely interested. I only go for humans."

"Good. Well, then." He said, hoping that really meant the end. He didn't want Martha to get false hope, and he certainly didn't want a silly crush coming between himself and Rose. "Close down the gravitic anomalizer. Fire up the helmic regulator. And finally - the hand brake. Ready?"

"No."

"Off we go," he pulled the handbrake and sent them into the Vortex for the night.

The TARDIS knocked him on his butt in displeasure

"Blimey, it's a bit bumpy," Martha observed.

"Welcome aboard, Miss Jones."

"It's my pleasure, Mr. Smith," she tells him, and they shake hands.


	10. Things I'll Never Tell You

**Author's Note:** **Wow! I already have almost one hundred followers. You have all just blown me away with your support and praise of this story. So with that in mind and because I went so long between updates while I was sick, here's a little something extra for all of you. Thank-you, my faithful followers!**

**##############################################################################**

She followed closely behind him as he walked quickly through the labyrinthine corridors of the half coral, half metal ship. For every one of his strides, she took three of her own. And she spent her time answering all of his remaining questions on their adventure—the Doctor was a thorough journaler (the life of a time traveler demanded it) and he wanted all the facts when wrote this adventure down later.

When he pause his questions to take a break she quickly inquired, "Aren't you going to give me a tour of your ship?"

He looked over his shoulder at her as they passed by another room, which looked to be filled with storage shelves full of unopened boxes of jelly babies. "Nah, it's not necessary. If you want to be some place, you'll find it; and if it doesn't exist, the TARDIS can make it for you."

"What? How can I just find it if I don't know where it is? And how can your spaceship make me a room?" She looked at him as though he might be insane.

"'My spaceship' is called the TARDIS, remember. She can do all of those things because she's alive—sentient. She was hatched and she grew from a pod into her current size, and she'll never stop getting bigger on the inside. Even I don't know how big she is, and I could never navigate her if I did. Just think of a place and walk, the room you want will show up eventually. Same thing if you need to find me or Rose."

She continued to look at him strangely. Surely he didn't expect her to believe—but apparently he did. Well, I guess some technology can be artificially intelligent. It must be like that. "So where are we going now?"

"Well, I figured you'd probably like a room for the night. I wasn't going to wait, but Rose could sleep for English—actually she did once, in the 5022, but she didn't place—ANYWAY, wouldn't want to go without her. Oh, the slap that would follow if I left her he—OW!"

The hallway in front of the Doctor shrunk suddenly during his monologue and Martha's poor tour guide came forehead-to-solid oak door. He rubbed the point of impact, which only served to make the spot redder than it already was. Grumbling under his breath, he tried the knob, which opened up immediately in to a sparse, but cheery room.

Martha joined him at his side. "Well, this'll do for one night, don't you think?"

She frowned at the reminder that she was only a temporary traveler. "Yes. It's nice," she said, making a slow circle to take in everything.

The floor was the same dark oak as the door, and the moldings. The walls were solid lavender, and on the desk against the far wall of the room was a glass vase full of lavender; above the desk were empty book shelves, and to either side there were two windows with their deep purple curtains drawn. The furniture was a of a lighter color, and the contrast was pleasant—it gave the room a touch of hominess—a subtle state of imperfection it would have otherwise lacked. In another corner there was a large wardrobe and a coat rack, from which dangled a fluffy white towel; and just to the left there was a door which Martha assumed led to a bath. _'I'll have to do a thorough check later.'_

The full-sized bed was opposite the desk. It had a high-backed headboard with empty cubbies in it, to hold knick-knacks for its owner. To either side of the bed were two small tables, both of which were empty, and hanging over each, dangling from the ceiling, were two small lights with white and mustard zigzags running across them.

But it was the bed itself which Martha could not take her eyes off of. Suddenly exhausted, she wanted nothing more than to jump on the fluffy dark purple comforter, remove all the beautiful sunshine yellow and lavender throw pillows and snuggle her head into the dark purple and white pillows buried underneath.

"Righttt," the Doctor said from beside her. She'd been so focused on her small examination of this room—her dream room if she were ever to have one—that she had actually forgotten the Doctor was in here with her.

"It's great, thank-you. I really love it," she told him honestly, hoping he'd never make her leave. She couldn't say that, yet anyway; she didn't know how he felt about her.

He smiled brightly at her approval. "Thank the TARDIS; she made it up for you."

"Umm," she said looking toward the ceiling of the room, wondering how to thank a machine. "Th-thanks! I really like it."

The Doctor's lips turned down a bit, but then the pitch of the humming in the ship changed, startling Martha, but prompting a return of his serene smile.

"Right, well, I'll just let you get to it. Join us when you're ready in the morning, and remember, just think of where you want to be or who you want to find…and if you can't find it, that means it doesn't want to be found," he ended vaguely.

Martha's face scrunched up in confusion, but then he was gone. Instead, she walked over to one of the windows to pull back the curtains. "Outside" the sun had set; just a sliver of it remained, peaking up over the horizon, but never setting any further, regardless of the birds and planes that flew past, or the general white noise from the street below, but Martha barely noticed this. Her attention was on the buildings erected around her; she was apparently in one of these herself. It confused Martha to no end that she seemed to be looking out upon a counsel estate…

##############################################################################

Rose had left the console room quickly. She hadn't meant to be rude and hoped Martha wouldn't hold it against her—she'd learned from her experience with Sarah Jane and she'd never again treat another person the way they'd treated each other that first day.

But learning from it was different from not being affected. She could tell herself to behave like a rational adult and treat Martha with kindness…she could even look past her jealousy of Martha and concern about what the future will bring for her if Martha becomes a companion, because she found she did like the woman. But she couldn't tell her heart not to be jealous, and she couldn't help but feel incredibly intimidated by the beautiful and intelligent woman either.

So she'd decided to go back to sleep for the night—she was still very tired from the day they'd just had. She hadn't cried when the Doctor had kiss Martha, nor when he'd almost died, though she had wanted to. She hadn't cried when they'd agreed she should be invited along, or been angry or mean when she'd fallen asleep and he'd gone and done it without her; she hadn't cried when Martha had begun to flirt with him right in front of her (though she couldn't have known how much that hurt, and hopefully never would—it would be too embarrassing), and all the Doctor had done was frown and tell her "one trip" even as he continued to step closer to her, like they were in a private conversation…

No, Rose had not cried then; she left and come to her room, changed into pajamas, laid down under her bed, picked up her history book and opened the page to where she'd left off at…and burst into long restrained sobs.

The TARDIS hummed mournfully along with her, but otherwise allowed her to continue crying undisturbed.

Rose cried for a lot of things: her parents, Mickey, the sibling she'd never know, the friends she'd lost and left while running from place to place; but mostly she cried if brilliant, beautiful Martha was on the TARDIS to stay, how long would it be until Rose wasn't anymore?

_'Where will my Aberdeen be?'_

##############################################################################

The Doctor walked down the corridors for over an hour. The old girl refused to help him, she wouldn't even answer him. _'Is she mad because Martha doesn't believe she's alive? It takes some people time…no that's not it, or she wouldn't have given her that room…WHY ARE YOU MAD?!' _he demanded telepathically. She didn't acknowledge she'd even heard him.

All he wanted was to find Rose's room. She usually stayed up a couple of hours after she "went to bed" to read. He thought maybe they could watch a movie, or he could fiddle with the toaster in his pocket while she read, but he'd been at this for an hour and the TARDIS wasn't stopping him from finding her, but neither was she helping him find his way.

He was about to find his way back to the galley or console room (without the help of the TARDIS) because Rose might very well be asleep by the time he found her; but on his way back, he spotted a familiar door—his door—and from there it was easy to follow the familiar path down the winding corridors to her bedroom.

He was about to revert to him familiar, knock-and-walk-right-in routine, when he heard her crying and stopped himself. Instead he slid to the floor and rested, crouched, with his head against the wall beside her door, feeling like an intruder, but unwilling to leave her alone when she sounded so devastated—even if she didn't know she wasn't alone.

He didn't know exactly why she was crying, but he knew it probably had something to do with him, like the kiss, or dying—didn't it always? So he stayed there, and forced himself to listen to the damage he'd caused her this time, and the comforting, mournful hums of the TARDIS as she, and not the Doctor, assured Rose that she wasn't alone; and when her cries had tapered into hick-ups and sniffles, he still remained right where he was. He didn't leave until he heard her breathing even out. He straightened with sore legs, rubbing at his sore knees, and returned to the galley to destroy his toaster.

Neither of them will speak of this in the morning, or ever again. She'll never tell him what's wrong, because he's made her feel like she can't come to him. He'll never tell her he heard her, because until he can tell her the truth about how much she means to him, he can't do anything to stop her tears…and that's the one thing he just cannot do.

Eventually, the old girl takes pity on him and a jar of marmalade appears before him on the galley table, amidst the remains of the toaster he'd been storing in his pocket. He eats the entire jar, and by the first rays of light of the TARDIS's morning cycle, three more toasters have found their way onto the kitchen table and been reduced to shambles.

He clears them away before she wakes up and sees them. _'Just another one of the many things I'll never tell you…'_


	11. The Shakespeare Code

**Author's Note: Here we go! The highly anticipated (mostly by me) first update of "The Shakespeare Code." This was truly a pleasure to write…because I LOVE messing with the Doctor. And who better to make the Doctor jealous than "the man himself."**

…**Don't worry, his Dark Lady will not be forgotten.**

**Thanks for all the positivity I've received and for all of your continued support; and a special thanks this week to the guest reviewer that made an exception to her rule to tell me what she thought—I'm so glad you're enjoying it! And it made me really happy to know that you wanted to take the time to tell me; I'll try not to let you down. :)**

**So, without further ado!**

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When Rose walked into the galley the next morning, the table was free of all bits of cannibalized toaster, apart from the small pieces the Doctor was still fiddling with in his hand.

"Mornin,'" she grumbled, plopping down beside him and putting her head tiredly on the table. Rose was not a morning person, and the fifty foot trek from her warm bed, across the cold metal grating of the hallway, barefoot, to the table, had greatly depleted her energy. "Uhhhnnngg."

"Good morning-cycle," he chipperly replied, putting the toaster down on the table and getting up to start making them tea. "Hungry?"

"Oatmeal," she barked without lifting her head

He bit back laughter, and if her eyes were more bloodshot than usual this morning, he didn't notice.

Ten minutes later Rose was halfway through her tea, cutting up chunks of the blue apple-like fruit they'd picked up on the second moon of Poosh last week (coonitz, she thinks they're called), and stirring them into her oatmeal with brown sugar.

"Thanks," she says to him now that the last of the sleep had left her.

"'Course. You're up early this morning-cycle—it's only the equivalent of seven."

"Got a lot of sleep on the jump seat yesterday though," she laughed. "Where's Martha?"

"Gave her a room to rest in for the night. Soon as she comes out we'll be off!" He had that manic look in his eyes again, which Rose had long ago learned meant bring a change of clothes and a toothbrush. She made a mental note to have the TARDIS pack her a survival kit of some things they might need.

"Wha' is tha' thing that used-ta-be da toasta' anyway?" Rose asked him around a bit of food, her hand shielding her mouth from view.

Just then a sleepy Martha came hobbling into the room. Martha had never slept well the first night or two in a new place, and while the humming of the ship eventually became like white noise to her, the frequent changes in pitch and tone would quickly alert her to it again, prompting the cycle to begin anew. If anything, she was more tired now than she had been yesterday.

Luckily for her, she was a medical student; staying up late cramming for a test, just to wake up early to shadow one of the attending doctor's on rounds had made her an expert at casting her exhaustion.

"Morning, Martha," the Doctor said. Rose, too shy to talk with her mouth full now that Martha was in the room, gave her an enthusiastic wave.

"Good morning… How is there a morning in outer space anyway?"

"Holograms and lamps," said the Doctor simply, and Martha felt a bit silly for asking. "Also, the TARDIS makes a rooster noise until Rose wakes up when she feels she's slept long enough. Nothing says morning like a 'cock-a-doodle-doo.'"

"Roosters don't actually sound like you know," Rose said once she finished swallowing her bite. "It's more like 'ah, ah, ah, ah, ahh.'

"There's hot water on the stove, Martha. Tea's in the cupboard to the left, and there's cereal and bread right above it. If you want something else just open the cabinet closest to the window, or the refrigerator if it's eggs or something; it's where she puts the stuff she doesn't already have stocked in here so we find it quicker."

Martha blinked at Rose, before giving her a wan smile and a thanks. Not only had that been the most she had ever heard the blonde girl say at a time, it seemed the blonde was under the impression that the ship really_ was_ alive…and a _she_. Martha didn't mean to be uncharitable, but she didn't think the Doctor had really meant 'alive' literally when he'd said it last night—it was a piece of technology, after all—and she couldn't help but think it was daft of the girl to believe it (she's only three years younger than me, after all, she can't be that gullible).

However, Martha did as Rose instructed. She poured herself some tea and added lots of sugar. Then she opened up the cupboard nearest the window and there, on the lowest shelf, sat a blackberry pastry and a lone pare.

She took a large bite of the fruit as she walked over to join the other two at the breakfast table. She couldn't understand why, after a moment of sniffing the air disdainfully, the Doctor whipped his head around to glare at the pare in her hand.

The Doctor looked back at Rose, whose focus was centered self-consciously on the remains of her breakfast. "It's a tracking screen; I'll keep it, and you will have this," he showed her the tiny pod. "Somewhere on your person. Ideally just under your skin, but I could just as easily attach it to your key necklace or a bracelet…or those loopy earrings you like to wear," he joked.

Rose made a scowling face; he knew after having one ripped out of her ear by a tree branch while running from a hoix, she would never wear them again—in fact, she was pretty sure she and the TARDIS had destroyed them. But her scowl was short lived, and a moment later she was trying to hide her smile behind her hair as she looked into her empty bowl.

He saw her flush and quirk her lips up. "Jeopardy friendly, you are."

##############################################################################

The Doctor and Martha were already dressed when they'd reached the galley, so when breakfast was over the Doctor watched Rose walk off to her room to change, while he and Martha headed in the direction of the console, the Doctor attempting to keep an appropriate amount of distance between them, and Martha trying to bridge that distance. By the time Rose had returned, wearing the brown leather jacket he'd altered to have bigger-on-the-inside pockets, he was in the middle of piloting his ship, and Martha was hanging on for dear life.

"But how do you travel in time? What makes it go," the unsteady girl asked.

"Oh, let's take the fun and mystery out of everything. Martha, you don't wanna know. It just does. Hold on tight!"

He half climbs up upon the console and suddenly the TARDIS jerks to a stop, sending both himself and Martha to the floor. Rose, who had grabbed onto a coral strut at the last moment, begins laughing at his shocked face, wondering what he expected when he crawled up on her controls.

Martha tries to hide a scowl as she stands up and shakes non-existent dirt off her knees. She didn't think it was appropriate for Rose to be laughing, they could have been hurt if the ship had continued to malfunction as it just had.

"Blimey," she asked the Doctor. "Do you have to pass a test to fly this thing?"

"Yes, and I failed it," he tells her, grabbing his coat and ushering Rose forward to the spot beside him. "Now, make the most of it. I promised you one trip and one trip only. Outside this door—brave new world!"

"Where are we?" Martha leans in ever closer to his face, though she doesn't appear to be aware of what she's doing. He grabs Rose's hand and takes a half-step back, only partially to allow Martha the first look outside.

"Take a look. After you." To Rose, he says. "Don't you love watching their faces for the first time?"

She gives an eager nod, though she isn't insensible of the fact that Martha appears infatuated with the Doctor; she is assuaged, somewhat, that he doesn't seem entirely unaware of it either.

##############################################################################

Outside was a large street in Elizabethan England. Rose and the Doctor trailed out after Martha to see her gaping face taking in the past from all sides. They both had twin smiles on their faces as they watched on.

"Oh, you are kidding me. You are so kidding me… Oh, my God! We did it. We travelled in time. Where are we?—No, sorry—I gotta get used to this… whole new language… When are we," she asked in rapid fire.

Rose and the Doctor grab onto Martha's right shoulder and pull her back as a man dumps a waste bucket out the window and onto the street just in front of where she'd stood.

"Mind the loo!" He shouts.

"Bit late for that, mate!" Rose replies, heatedly.

"Somewhere before the invention of the toilet. Sorry about that," the Doctor tells Martha.

"I've seen worse. I've worked the late night shift at A&E."

The Doctor gets a glean in his eye that Rose has learned to be frightened of. He turns to Martha, but by his cheeky expression, Rose knows his words are meant more for her.

"Well Martha, as this is your only chance to experience the wonder of time travel, what's say we make it more authentic. Rose can show you the way to the wardrobe room, can't you Rose?" Rose's eyes narrow dangerously, but he just smiles wider. "Rose is good with history; I'm sure she'll be able to find you plenty of Elizabethan era appropriate attire. The year is 1599, Rose—and before you ask, yes, I am sure. Cheeky."

"I didn't even say anything!" She protested, but her show of being indignant fell apart when she laughed.

"Don't act innocent," he wagged a playful finger at her; she crossed her eyes to see it. "You were going to."

The tip of her tongue poked out of her mouth as her smile widened. _'Minx!'_

"Oh, that sounds great!" Exclaimed Martha, oblivious to Rose glaring at the Doctor. He was teasing her. He knew Rose hated to dress up unless absolutely necessary (especially if the clothing was as confining as the gown she would now have to don would be); it made running more difficult and she'd loss the ability to store her toothbrush in her jacket pocket.

He better hope he has a spare toothbrush in one of his pockets.

##############################################################################

Martha practically skipped beside Rose as they made their way into the depths of the TARDIS. She was so excited to dress up and explore. However, once they had reached the heavy double doors, a stray thought had Martha Jones hesitating. "Rose?"

"Yeah?" Asked the blonde, with her hand on the knob of the door to the most incredible closet in all of time and space.

"The Doctor said you know a lot about history. Do you think it'll be alright for me out there?" Seeing Rose's confused look, the black woman gave an exasperated half-laugh. "I mean, I won't get carted off as a slave or something?"

"Oh! OH! No, of course not. Actually, it's not so different from our time, you'll see. There may be a few morons out there, but aren't there always? Because you're black, or a woman, or gay (or on some planets, like matriarch societies, or planets where the inhabitants are blue, or something, people are ostracized for the opposite reasons) or because you're_ alien, _there are always a few ugly people, wherever you go; but you and I, we'll be dressed as equals. No one will bother you," she concluded, but thought better of it; she couldn't promise Martha that. Rose herself had been imprisoned for her blonde hair, her pale skin, for being thin, for being fat, for blinking twice in a row, which was apparently an insult to the Duke of Thyyidr. Turning to Martha again, because she should know this for if they wound up somewhere where society didn't treat her with the respect she deserved. "And if anyone does, then they'll have to answer to me and to the Doctor."

Martha would be lying if she said she wasn't still unsure, but she saw something fierce in Rose's eyes when she turned back to her after her initial assurances, which did more than a little to help her cast aside any reservations. Aside from the fact that it was good to have someone on her side, that fierceness made her see for a moment what she thought maybe the Doctor saw.

With sincere smiles between them, they opened the heavy doors together and stepped into a clothing wonderland.

Rose still smiled every time she saw this room; and sometimes when the Doctor wasn't around or she wanted time alone, she would secret herself away to this palace-sized playroom, and play dress up. She looked over at Martha; maybe from now on, she wouldn't be sneaking off alone.

Martha, for her part, stood in awe of the colossal room before her. _'Colossal doesn't do it justice,'_ she thought as she allowed her neck to fall back to observe the height of the room. One metal spiral staircase, the widest and tallest that she had ever seen, stood erect as Jack's beanstalk, about thirty yards from where she still stood at the door's entrance; it was in the exact center of the room.

As it rose, it met with mezzanine after mezzanine at each level, alternately supported with pale pink coral struts to the left, then the right, then the left, of the staircase used to access each floor. The ceiling was so far above her, she thought she could only just make it out; and curiously, on a few of the lower levels were zip-line cables which led to the ground level, where huge piles of soft-looking clothing pillows were constructed for soft landings. _'I cannot wait to try those out!'_

"What do you think?" Asked Rose, knowingly.

"This is incredible!"

"Yeah," she sighed, taking another moment before piping up again. "Wellll, I think we'd best get started, don't you? The Doctor's terribly impatient, and after all, it's going to take a while to get these things on after we pick'em out." Martha nodded in acquiescence. "S'pose we should start with shoes. Don't want you running in those." She pointed to the black, thick-heeled ankle-length boots poking out of Martha's flared designer jeans, and led the way to the back of the ground floor, where underneath the low-hanging mezzanine were thousands of pairs of shoes on racks, hanging from tacks in the walls, dangling from coral struts, and covering the floor.

"Here we are!" Rose pointed to a section of female running shoes in different makes and sizes.

"These aren't very period," Martha said, holding up a pair of beige puma's and frowning. _'I thought Rose was supposed to be a history expert.'_

"If you really want, the right shoes for the period are in that pile, but they're no good for running."

Martha walked off in the direction Rose had pointed immediately, wondering why she'd want to run in Elizabethan England. Still, trying to appease Rose—who was nice enough to be helping her—as much as possible, she chose a simple pair of plain black flats in her size, earning her a reluctant nod of approval.

Next, Rose led her up the staircase…and up…and up, until Martha was dizzy and beginning to perspire, and Rose was becoming out of breath herself. "Here we are! Should be these two racks here for England fashion of the time; the rest are from some parts of Europe, so avoid those," she warned.

Rose found almost immediately a dress she'd deemed adequate. It was appropriate for a middle class maiden of the time. The skirt and bodice were both a pale gold, the skirt solid and the bodice's drawstrings were on either side of the waist, so she could get it on by herself. The bodice itself had a beautiful pink and green flower and leaf design and the square neckline would expose her clavicle while still preserving a sense of modesty. Even better, on the hanger with it were the necessary undergarments and corsets necessary. She left Martha to change.

Martha was still in search of the perfect dress. It had to be intricate and eye-catching—something to make the Doctor notice her. After ten minutes of searching she finally found the perfect one. The skirt was a silky cream with a brocade opening of white and cream, accented with pearls. The bodice was a similar cream color with gorgeous red, green, yellow, and blue leaf and flower embroidery painstakingly sewn unto it, and the shoulder sleeves as well. The arms of the sleeves were sheer to the wrists, where two gold cuffs would rest. The drawstrings tied down the back and a short train would trail behind her.

_'It's beautiful. Perfect!'_ Martha thought as she observed it. It had a low neckline, but not anything more provocative than was common in the 21st century. It would make her glow, she just knew it would be perfect. The Doctor wouldn't be able to look away.

She took it off the hanger as Rose was walking back in, fully dressed in a simple, if elegant gown, her hair braided back simply and beautifully. She had apparently found extensions to match to her hair, but they looked remarkably natural. _'She really is beautiful,'_ thought Martha, with neither jealousy, nor pleasure.

"That's really pretty," Rose said to Martha when she saw the dress clutched tightly in her hands. "But I don't think it's a good idea to wear anything so high class out on the streets of London. That's a morning dress meant for someone wealthy or even in the aristocracy, we want to blend in. Something like…" she pulled out a dress with a solid plum skirt and taupe bodice with a plum flower pattern. The drawstrings tied in the front and the neckline was rounded, but like Rose's own gown, all the necessary undergarments had been hung with it, and they appeared to be of a modest fashion. "…this." Rose told Martha. "It's beautiful, and it's middle class so we won't get too much unwanted attention wherever we go. Oh! And look! There's a matching drawstring purse with it!" She showed Martha the taupe purse with beaded tassels which would dangle from her wrist.

"Yeah," said Martha, rather unhappily. She saw the logic in dressing inconspicuously and the dress was nice, really. Plum had always looked nice against her skin tone. But the high class dress she was now clutching to her chest possessively would make her stand out to the Doctor—she knew it. And though she didn't think she had to compete with Rose (they'd said they were just friends, after all, and she'd seen nothing to suggest otherwise), she also didn't think the Doctor had any romantic intentions for _her_…yet. She intended to change that.

Rose mistook Martha's silence and tight hold on the gown as determination to wear it, so though she frowned, she decided not to argue. "If you really love that one, I'll help you put it one—since it ties in the back."

"No. No, you're right; we should blend in," she said to Rose. She also didn't want the Doctor to think she was high maintenance. "And that dress is really nice, too."

Rose smiled. "Come on then. Let's get you changed and your hair fixed up before the Doctor gets impatient and comes to see what's taking us so long."

They both laugh, though Martha is wondering if he might grow patient as soon as Rose says, and whether she should take her time getting her gown on so he'll come find her—_them._ She decides against it though.

Once changed and in her shoes, Martha decides on a simple beaded cowl to put in her hair. She'd always thought they looked pretty, and since her dress was simple, she thought her hair ought to be as well. Then side-by-side, Rose and Martha made their way back to the console room, where there waited a pacing Time Lord (with Martha trying to measure her steps the entire walk back so her skirts didn't shuffle every time she kicked them; she was largely unsuccessful. Beside her, Rose's skirts barely moved at all as she and Martha made small talk).

##############################################################################

"Finally!" said the Doctor the moment he heard their footsteps, one set quick and light, one heavy and somewhat awkward. "What took you so long, I was beginning to think you found the pool by accident again, Rose, and you know that I—_Rose?_"

He knew he must look ridiculous, choking on the end of his sentence as he just had. It was probably rude to sound so surprised to see her, too, but he couldn't help it; just like he couldn't help his gaping jaw, or comically wide eyes, or the way they swept slowly down and even more slowly back up her curvaceous figure, before settling somewhere between her face and her bodice so he could observe all of her at once. _'Wow.'_

"_Doctor?_" She repeated in the same mock surprised tone, amusement written on her face at his reaction, though he knew she wouldn't guess at the reason for it.

Standing directly in front of his Rose, looking very happy, and shooting him looks that he refused to describe as sultry, was Martha; she wore a very becoming cone shaped bodice, perfect for the time period. She was the picture of middle class beauty from hair, to shoes, in her purple gown…

…And she was currently in his way.

Taking a step to the side so he could see Rose better, he didn't notice the frown Martha shot him, then Rose, then the floor, when she finally realized he hadn't been staring at her, but at his best mate, whom he rarely saw out of blue jeans and hoodies _'Not that I don't like those as well.'_

"You look beautiful," he said to her.

He kept his eyes on her at all times, systematically committing every cell of her current appearance to memory (…he tried not to think about the fact that he was leering, although he knew he was, and his past selves would be appalled). Her thin, curvy waste, the black-soled chucks poking out slightly from underneath her skirt, the smooth pale skin of her wrists where her three-quarter-length sleeves ended mid forearm…the nearly smothered décolletage, peeking out demurely from the sinfully tight bodice of her gown, the square neckline accenting her defined clavicle bone—more defined now from the weight she'd recently lost during her recovery—, and the long, creamy expanse of her bare neck.

Her hair was kept back with braids and pins, but 'baby hairs' as she called them, teased the back of her neck, and her temples in slight curls. She wore no make-up, and she smiled at him widely, sincerely. He looked into her eyes, expecting a nervous blush to spread over her face because of his open admiration, expecting hope to shine in her eyes…even if he didn't want to get her hopes up…

His heart sank in despair, and more than a little guilt, when from her bright eyes, her cheeky smile, she said. "For a human?"

His chuckle was hollow, but he couldn't bring himself to fake sincerity at the moment. She'd believed that all this time, and now she was laughing at herself; how could he laugh, too? _'For anyone. For anything. You and Sexy—the most beautiful things I have ever seen.'_

"You look wonderful as well, Martha Jones!" She puffed up at his compliment.

"Thank-you Doctor! Why didn't you change?"

"Oh, he never does, because 'this outfit never goes out of style.'" Rose and the Doctor finished together.

"…right then. Shall we?"

They stepped back out into London in the early evening air, 1599.

"But are we safe? I mean, can we move around and stuff?"

"Of course. Why do you ask?"

"It's like in the films. You step on a butterfly; you change the future of the human race."

"Well, tell you what then, don't step on any butterflies. What have butterflies ever done to you?"

"Doctor, be serious," chastised Rose. "You'll be fine, Martha. For the most part, time can compensate around time travelers, like pebbles in a great, big river; we basically don't matter so long as we stay away from big events...which admittedly, we rarely do…" She trailed off for a moment before finding her voice again. "The boulders—those are fixed points in time—the Doctor can tell when we're approaching one of those, so we can steer clear of it."

Martha nodded in understanding, assuming that since the Doctor didn't correct her (and in fact, looked more than mildly surprised and impressed with the blonde at this side) Rose wasn't entirely incorrect; although how a twenty-one year old human from south London managed to gain a good enough sense of time travel to earn the Doctor's approval, Martha swore she'd never understand.

"What if, I dunno, what if I kill my grandfather?"

Her companions both stopped walking and gave her amused looks. "You planning to?"

"No," she laughed.

"Well, then," the Doctor said.

"This is London in 1599?"

"Yupp," he told Martha, popping the 'p' sound. "Elizabethan England, not so different from your time." He told them, unknowing repeating Rose's words from earlier. " Look over there—they've got recycling…water cooler moment…global warming," he says after a preacher shouts "And the world will be consumed by flame!"

"Oh, yes," he continues, almost forgetting his big finale. "And... entertainment! Popular entertainment for the masses. If I'm right, we're just down the river by Southwark, right next to..._  
><em>the Globe Theatre! Brand new. Just opened. Through, strictly speaking, it's not a globe; it's a tetradecagon — 14 sides — containing the man himself."

Rose practically squealed, squeezing his arm where her hand was resting. "Whoa, you don't mean... is Shakespeare in there?" Asked Martha.

"Oh, yes." He holds his other arm out to Martha. "Miss Jones, will you accompany us to the theatre?"

She links their arms. "Yes, Mr. Smith, Miss Tyler, I will," she ends on an excited squeal of her own.

"When you get home, you can tell everyone you've seen Shakespeare."

"Then I could get sectioned!"

Rose snorts.

##############################################################################

Rose, Martha, and the Doctor are cheering with the rest of the audience, which is packed back to stomach, and hip to hip, in order to accommodate the mass of people who'd come out for a night at the theatre. Onstage, the actors take their final bows.

"That's amazing! Just amazing. It's worth putting up with the smell. And those are men dressed as women, yeah."

"London never changes," the Doctor affectionately quips.

"Where's Shakespeare? I wanna see Shakespeare! Author! Author!" She chants.

The Doctor looks at her over Rose's head, the two girl's being of nearly identical height. Rose is also glancing Martha's way, where the woman now appears slightly self-conscious.

"Do people shout that? Do they shout "Author?"

"They do now," Rose tells her as she picks up the chant with a smile and mimics Martha's fist-shaking in the air. "Author! Author!"

A man behind them follows suit and soon the entire crowd is shouting it.

A young, handsome man takes the stage, giving an exaggerated bow and blowing air kisses at the audience, which goes wild. Rose feels her eyes bug out at the young Shakespeare on stage before her. _'Oh! He's alright!'_

Beside her, Martha's expression is slowly beginning to show recognition as well.

"He's a bit different from his portraits," she tells the other two time travelers.

"Genius," says the Doctor in the voice Rose has come to coin as his 'creepy-fan-boy-stalker' voice. He'd used that same voice before asking Thomas Edison if he could come inside his house to see his electric lamps…then walking right place the man, and into the dining room where he sat himself amongst the party of people already there; and again that time during one of Bob Dylan's recording sessions, before he's been "escorted" out of the building. "He's a genius—THE genius. The most human human that's ever been, and now we're gonna hear him speak. Always, he chooses the best words. New, beautiful, brilliant words!"

"And he's nice to look at," Rose whispered loudly to Martha, who nodded. Unfortunately for the Doctor and his Time Lord hearing, he was able to hear her quite clearly, even over the roaring crowd, and did not think Shakespeare so very good-looking at all, thank you very much! He spent the rest of his time glaring at Shakespeare on the stage.

"Shut your big fat mouths!"

_'What were you saying about the right words Doctor?'_ Rose thought as she laughed until her ribs ached in the confines of her tight bodice. She stopped, however, when she good a look up at the Doctor's face. It was a curious mixture between disappointment, and a scowl.

##############################################################################

"Shut your big fat mouths!" The bard had said, and the Doctor felt his face fall in disappointment…those were hardly the beautiful, brilliant words he'd expected.

All around them the audience laughed, but from the corner of his eye he saw Rose reign her amusement in and shoot him a sympathetic glance.

"Oh, well," he told her and Martha, who was also looking somewhat disillusioned.

"You should never meet your heroes," Martha said. _'Nor should Rose! Rose had thought Casanova handsome, too; and she'd kissed Charlie boy on the cheek! Maybe we should head back to the TARDIS now…'_

"You have excellent taste! I'll give you that…Oh, that's a wig!" He said to a man near the stage. "I know what you're all saying. 'Love's Labour's Lost', that's a funny ending, isn't it? It just stops! Will the boys get the girls? Well, don't get your hose in a tangle, you'll find out soon. Yeah, yeah. All in good time. You don't rush a genius."

No one notices the beautiful woman in the balcony manipulating a little doll.

One person does, however, feel a heavy wave of psychic energy ripple through the air; and beside him, a pink and yellow girl lifts her head, suddenly feeling apprehensive—though she would be hard pressed to explain away her premonition. The Doctor notices this as well, but all the tests done by the TARDIS so far suggest Rose is entirely human. _'Maybe her psychic training has just strengthened her perception…'_

Suddenly Shakespeare jerks out of his bow and stands rod straight; he's eyes are glazed over and looking into the middle distance. "When? Tomorrow night. The premiere of my brand new play. A sequel, no less, and I call it 'Loves Labour's Won'! " He ends to the loud cheering and applause from the crowds. The Doctor and his companions remain silent as they file out along with the crowd.

**##############################################################################**

"I'm not an expert, but I've never heard of 'Loves Labour's Won'."

"Exactly — the lost play. It doesn't exist — only in rumors. It's mentioned in lists of his plays but never ever turns up. No one knows why."

"Have you got a mini-disk or something? We could tape it. We can flog it. Sell it when we get home and make a mint."

"…Erm," Rose stutters nervously.

"No."

To her credit, Martha seems to realize the moment she says this that it's a terrible idea. "That would be bad?" She asks, but it sounds more like a statement.

"Yeah," they both tell her.

"Well, how come it disappeared in the first place?"

"I think we're about to find out," Rose tells her, practically hopping with excitement.

"Well, I was just gonna give you a quick little trip in the TARDIS but I suppose we could stay a bit longer," he says.

"How are we supposed to find Shakespeare though?" Martha asks him.

The Doctor looks to Rose, questioningly.

"What? I read a few history books and you think I know what pubs and inns Shakespeare frequented when he stayed in town? _You're _the fanatic, not me."

He sighs. "I guess we'll have to do this the hard way," he says, speaking to himself.

He has to ask six different people before he's told to make his way to the Elephant in.

**##############################################################################**

**If you're interested in seeing Rose and Martha's dresses and hair, please check my profile for the web addresses. Just copy and paste.**

**See you next time!**


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